


Hurt Me, Hurt You

by Demontied



Series: Ritualistic [1]
Category: Kingdom Hearts (Video Games)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Dubious Consent, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Major Character Injury, Psychological Torture, Sex Pollen, Violence, Whumptober 2020, Yandere
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:20:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 24,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26761258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demontied/pseuds/Demontied
Summary: 31 Days of Whumptober prompts.  Will include such things as blood, gore, body horror, character death, etc.  Please stay away if you're squeamish!
Relationships: Ephemer/Vanitas (Kingdom Hearts), Riku Replica/Vanitas (Kingdom Hearts), Riku/Sora (Kingdom Hearts), Vanitas/Ventus (Kingdom Hearts)
Series: Ritualistic [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949980
Comments: 11
Kudos: 39





	1. Day 1: Waking Up Restrained

**Author's Note:**

> 31 Days of Halloween Whumptober prompts. Will be adding tags and characters as I need. Please note that if you're squeamish or not really into blood, gore, body horror, loss of limbs, angst, etc you might wanna skip these fics.
> 
> A lot of these ideas have come from RPs and general OOC things but I'll try and make them make sense, especially regarding Dark Riku's 'past'. 
> 
> I'll be doing the prompts from Whumptober 2020 on Tumblr, which can be found here: https://whumptober2020.tumblr.com/post/628049281018970112/whumtober-2020-obsolete-please-see-new-pinned
> 
> Let's get spooky!

_ Drip. Drip. Drip.  _ The sound of droplets was maddening, enough to wake the replica up in a hazy state. He blinked vision back to his eyes but the room was dark and cold, the only light he had given through a small rectangular window to the left of his head higher up. He could just make out two tiny stars in the darkness of the night sky before the weakness in his head made it drop back down, the sound of leather squeaking in the motion and then a tiny clink of metal dragging against metal.

That did it, enabling consciousness to force its way back into his head. He peered around the room as his night vision kicked in and made out what looked like concrete bricks encompassing the room and a concrete floor stained in rust. No, not rust, his brain supplied, his first wet inhale filling in that detail. Old blood.  _ His,  _ he realized, tasting iron in his teeth. He looked down and caught sight of black leather, the rattle of metallic-twisted chains and decorum on the strings of the jacket and further still to the floor.

There were the usual stains of old blood and then he squinted. The dim light of the stars illuminated just enough to make a glint in the corner of his eyes and he twisted his head to see thick chains. He scrunched his eyes shut and opened them again, trying to remember anything, but it was all fuzzy. A man in a similar coat had come to him and asked if he wanted a second chance and he’d agreed. The next thing he knew, the world went dark and now he was waking in what seemed to be a prison cell. There was a thick, metal door in the very front of him but there were no doors or symbols alluding to what--or who--was behind it. 

He was a prisoner.

He licked at his teeth but his mouth was dry even with the taste of rust and he tried to move his arm, feeling it give a minute amount and then grew too taut, snapping his arms straight again behind his back. He grunted, and then looked back at the door and gave a thrash before screaming. His voice cracked, a high-pitched squawk, and his head dropped. He’d be useless in that department until he got a drink but for now, he needed to get out of here. He gave another wiggle and thrash but he had no leverage. It was then he realized he was sitting on his knees and they’d gone numb some time ago. He shifted and angled so he’d slide on his side, grateful for the relief in his tingling extremities as he stretched his legs out, forced now to practically bow to keep the strain from his arms.

“Second chance, huh?” he huffed, shaking his silver bangs from his face and scowling at the door. “Then who’s it even for?” he asked, eyes roving around the room once more. He turned his head and looked over towards the window where the dripping sound had started from and he frowned. He was a replica, what damage could rainwater presumably do to him? He shuffled and moved to the left towards the window, realizing he could still move to the sides a little rather than forward. He slumped over onto his side with a grunt and then an irritated scream. A mistake, really, considering the state of his throat, but the anger kicked in harder than common sense.

He shimmied on his shoulder and pushed with his heels until he got closer to the tiny puddle, feeling his cheek dampen as he forced his neck forward and tried to sip. The puddle was shallow and the first sip scraped at his lips, concrete filling the void. It was cold and stagnant but it was enough for the moment.  _ Water.  _ The third sip was interrupted by a sound that he could practically feel his ears twitch with the suddenness, and blue eyes angled towards the door as it rattled the hinges and screamed open, rust shaking from the doorway and sprinkling to the floor as the hooded figure stepped in.

“You’re left alone for three days and you’re resorting to drinking  _ rainwater from a puddle?”  _ The voice--male--laughed, insulting and full of glee. The replica glared, finishing his drink and working to a sitting position but it was difficult, especially with the feeling of eyes on him but nowhere to  _ see  _ them beneath the hood. It unnerved him, set his muscles tense. “Boy, oh boy, when they hear about this they’re gonna get a good laugh.”

“Who?”  
“Well, your new best friends, kiddo!” the figure said, snapping their gloved hands and then shaking their hooded head. “They’re all waiting for you to join us.”  
“Then let me out,” the replica said, but the hooded figure clicked their tongue.

“I would--and could. But I can’t. Bosses’ orders. See, the rest of us, we all...look the same. To prove our loyalty you could say. You…” the figure pointed, practically sneering as they made an ‘eugh’ sound, “For whatever reason, the boss’s... _ intent _ didn’t take on you.”

The replica tipped his head and the hooded figure sighed, dropping their hood to reveal a scarred face. They wore an eyepatch on one eye and the other, visible, smoldered in amber, brought out all the brighter by black hair with a white streak and sharpened ears to match their grin. “We like the color  _ yellow  _ here,” the man said, pointing again. Oh.

“Okay, so how the hell do I ‘show loyalty’ or whatever?”

“Well that’s the problem...but we have a solution.” The man came closer and moved behind the replica. There was the sound of chains for a brief moment before the replica felt the chains  _ move,  _ tightening behind him and forcing him to sit up straight. “We were all told that if someone was found to become rebellious, we were instructed to set them on the right path.” The voice behind him started to hum and an unfamiliar sound echoed in the cage.

“How can I be rebelling if I don’t even know what I did wrong?” the replica snorted, and the man shrugged, the squeak of leather soft. 

“How should I know?” he replied, and then clapped his hands. “Okay, kiddo, brace yourself!”

“For wh--!”

The replica  _ burned _ . There was something wedged into his back and he grunted, trying to turn to see it but he couldn’t, immobilized. It was  _ sharp,  _ and it burned like a brand. He was sure he could hear his skin sizzling if he focused hard enough. He bit on his lip and shivered, wincing and squeezing his eyes shut.

“That wasn’t so bad, right?”

“You fucking-!” This time, the replica screamed, one burn becoming several. He felt like a dartboard, sharp objects wedging into his flesh. He was sure one singed right between his ribs. His head dropped and he felt his eyes start to tear up. He was burning, everything in him screamed to thrash, to attack, to fight back--but he couldn’t. He was shackled down, restrained and practically prostrating himself for the man behind him embedding him in arrows. He swallowed a few times but whatever liquid he drank seemed to evaporate in a fresh pool of blood trickling down his back.

“Hm...anything?” the man asked, leaning over to look at the replica, but all he got back in response was the glare of cyan and he sighed, clicking his tongue. “Well that’s okay, you can’t always get instant results in this world. But it’s fine--we got plenty of time, right?”

“F-For what?”

Another fresh cannonade against his spine and he screamed again through bitten lips. He had his answer: whatever he’d done wrong, they were going to right. The shackles echoed in the chamber as another volley prepared to fire.


	2. Collars (ABO)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day two prompt: collars  
> Featuring my server's ABO AU

There was a knock at the bedroom door and Replitwo stuck a bookmark into his spot of his novel, shouting ‘come in’ as he shut it with a flourish, looking up as the door opened and Vanitas stepped in holding a small bag. “Where did you go today, hm?”

“Someplace,” Vanitas replied vaguely, sitting on the edge of the bed and reaching into the bag with a crinkle, pulling out a medium-sized black box tied up with a red ribbon in a little bow. “I went to go get you a present since you’ve been good lately.”

“A present?” A silver eyebrow arched and looked at the box and then around the rather barren room. What else could he really want, he already had the bare necessities and the stuff he wanted he could easily get. As if to read his confusion, Vanitas laughed and rattled the box playfully, something heavy inside making a muted noise as it shifted and slid inside.

“Relax: it’s for the both of us in a sense,” he said, working nimble fingers inside the ribbon and sliding it free after a few seconds, slipping off the top. Inside was a black collar of what looked to be leather, a thick gold ring in the front, encircled by the same bright gold spikes. He slipped it out and handed it off to Replitwo who took it in hand and felt his palm bow a little from the weight. He didn’t even need to sniff it to know the leather was fresh and the collar custom made.

“What’s wrong with the one I have now?” he asked, pointing his free hand’s finger at the plain black collar currently resting snugly against his neck, the little black heart charm dangling beneath it pressing to the hollow of his throat. It was well-worn and well-loved, sure, but he didn’t think it had offended Vanitas enough for him to go purchase a new one. Replitwo almost felt insulted at the thought. He could’ve easily tidied it up, maybe applied some leather cure to it if it really mattered, and the scent of rusting metal was only prevalent if Vanitas nosed the collar up to kiss and suck at his throat.

“”Nothing’s wrong with it,” Vanitas said, rolling gilded eyes generously before he waved his hand in a ‘come here’ motion and let Replitwo scoot closer. Vanitas’ fingers worked at the back of Replitwo’s collar and unbuckled it, taking the newer one from him and sliding it over Replitwo’s throat, finding the right hole to slip the prong into as he nestled the strap into the holding loop. With a grin, he slipped two fingers under the leather and nodded. “Just making sure you can breathe is all. Not too tight?”

Replitwo’s fingers came up to rub at the leather and pull the collar left and right. It was snug, a small enough gap for him to breathe but still feel his heartbeat. Snug. “Perfect,” he replied, and then looked at that still-grinning face. “Is this about last week’s meeting because I already apologized and-”

“Of course not,” Vanitas said, waving a hand dismissively before leaning back on a hand. “Why, do  _ you  _ think you did something wrong at the meeting?”

Replitwo stopped to think. Vanitas loved parading him around to other alphas, and once word got out that Vanitas--owner of the world’s largest conglomerate corporation after his old man kicked the bucket--was an omega, he’d already thought ten steps ahead. His mate was an alpha, sure, but he’d do anything for his omega, even if it meant prostrating himself in embarrassing ways to impress  _ other  _ alphas Vanitas needed to make connections with.

And last weekend had been a  _ nightmare _ . Last weekend, Vanitas allowed five of the top alphas into his hotel room for a business meeting--while he was in heat. To make matters worse,  _ Replitwo,  _ pretty, perfect Replitwo, was allowed into the room with them. And while Vanitas struggled to stand and continued to deliver his proposals, he watched as Replitwo sat in his cage with the door open like a good boy, sitting still, sitting  _ quietly,  _ even as the other alphas started sniffing, started growling, started flirting and trying to make moves. Even the most physically  _ weak  _ of the alphas would have fought tooth and nail to get their mate away, to fight off the competition, to claim them then and there and prove to the others the omega was taken.

But he didn’t. He was told to  _ stay.  _ And stay he did. He couldn’t help flooding the room with pheromones but it was drowned out by the other alphas all vying for Vanitas’ attention. Replitwo had done well but by the end of the night he faltered. Agonizing hour after hour got to his brain, and before the last alpha was out the door, he was sliding from the cage and locked his eyes on the prize--his prize. But Vanitas had noticed.

The alphas, once their brains had cleared from the haze, were all impressed with Vanitas’ control, and had all signed over business agreements with the male, and it only proved Vanitas a powerful leader. But unbeknownst to Replitwo, the final alpha out the door had noticed him trying to leave the cage and made sure Vanitas dealt with it accordingly. They knew the truth; Vanitas’ control wasn’t as absolute as he thought, and though the alpha had signed over, it wasn’t without a little bit of blackmail.  _ I know the truth. _

Vanitas had barred Replitwo from taking care of his heat and instead dealt with it himself for the next four nights in the hotel room, moans drowned out by apologies, whines, and Replitwo breaking his nails trying to break through the cage. 

“...Vani-”  
“Do _you_ think you did something wrong at the meeting?” Vanitas asked again, reaching into the box for something small. It was then Replitwo realized exactly what game was being played here and he reached his hand up to undo the collar but Vanitas clicked his tongue.

“Do you think I  _ like  _ selling my slick to perverts, Rep?”

“No, sir.”

“Do you think one little bottle of it will curb his appetite now that he knows you  _ didn’t listen?” _

“...no, sir.” So that’s what had happened. “I tried my best, really, but it’d been  _ hours,  _ and-”

He yelped and fell back against the sheets, raising a hand up to tug at his collar, but it had only lessened the pain on one side, making it so much worse on the other. It was then he realized exactly what had happened: every spike was dual-ended and hidden until they popped out to embed into his throat. “I didn’t mean-”

“I know you didn’t. And I love you a lot for trying, but we can’t have you slip like that again, hm?” Vanitas said, raising a hand to scratch at Replitwo’s scalp. “Noe up you go on all fours, keep your head up high.”

Replitwo winced but carefully did as told. Every movement shifted the spikes, the tips just carefully pressed into his skin. He could smell blood, little needles biting into his flesh and remaining still. Vanitas gave him a long look over and then got up, pacing around him and staring before smiling and scratching again at that head.

“There’s a beautiful alpha,” he cooed, and then sighed out pleasantly, grin widening. “A beautiful, obedient, perfect alpha, all for me…” He pressed his hands to his hips and leaned in to inspect the collar with a hum. “Looks good on you, pup,” he stepped back and then pointed at the little keychain in his hand. “In two month’s time, I have another, more important meeting to attend and you’re coming with me, but it’s not going to be five alphas this time.”

“What?”

“Well...it’s important I give a speech, and they rented out the whole opera room just for me and, oh, I don’t know, around two hundred other esteemed guests.”

“ _ Vanitas-” _

“And I need  _ you  _ to be the star of the show.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small plastic vial, reaching for the stopper and uncorking it. He brought it under Replitwo’s nose and the scent hit him instantly. Vanitas’ slick from his heat only days ago, fresh and pungent. The instant need to nuzzle and hold overtook him and he leaned forward, getting a disappointed sigh.

“A  _ lot  _ of work, I see, needs to be done,” he said, pressing the keychain.

Replitwo saw white and the spikes dug deeper.


	3. Held at Gunpoint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Took a few liberties with this one. Suicide warning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Implied suicide warning

The ship rocked violently and the deck up above let out various whoops and shouts, booze sloshing to the table and food rolling to the floor to disappear, whether into the greedy ocean or hidden beneath a barrel. The deck was welcoming to Vanitas once they discovered he was a vampire; nothing could be stranger than anything Captain Rep brought to the table. The nocturnal loved to sit above deck and drink away his woes from morning to night but it seemed that something got to him tonight, sending him to his quarters.

Vanitas watched as those tired eyes stared blankly at the table for far too long before the captain got up without a word, stumbling over the deck and finding his way to the inner door. All because deckhands Xion and Roxas had mentioned being homesick.

The captain never spoke of his family, and whenever he did, it was always with a prideful puff of his chest and telling the ship ‘good riddance!’ before directing his attention back to his compass and steering wheel, falling silent. Vanitas had pried for information but the ship’s residents knew little more than he did. The captain’s quarters were private to everyone but Vanitas but it didn’t mean there was anything of interest he could find.

It wasn’t until Vanita got up and followed the captain down into the quarters did he realize the extent of the damage.

Sitting alone at a table, the captain sat, golden reavers embedded into his silvery hair, red-ringed, bloodshot eyes staring down at the table. His other hand held tight to a bottle and the dim fireplace smolders set the room into a warm orange glow, making the captain’s pale face only appear more gaunt. Vanitas sat in front of him but the captain didn’t respond. The table was littered in a small handful of coins--tooth marks in each one, ensuring their value--a knife stuck deep into the wood, the old stained map and then...a picture. Rather a painting.

And a loaded flintlock.

“Captain?” Vanitas asked and the pirate said nothing, jaw working and eyes blinking before the captain rubbed at his head and turned his attention towards the vampire before scowling.

“What?” he growled, and Vanitas adjusted in his chair, tossing a long leg over the other and then pointing at the bottle of booze.

“You stopped celebrating with us above deck,” he pointed out. The captain was covered in dried blood from a successful ‘raid’, the scent of smoke clung thickly to his clothes, especially his wide jacket resting over his shoulders. A fat chest of gold and loot tucked somewhere away in this room. But the captain didn’t seem to be in his usual frenzy, the anger ebbing away and leaving the old drunkard to his familiarity.

“Ay,” he agreed, tipping back into his chair and sloshing his bottle lazily, other hand drumming along the wood and making every claw click loudly in the creaking room. “Not in the mood for gallivanting tonight, bloodsucker.”

“Yet you chose to drink alone instead?”

“I’m never alone, boy.” Vanitas rolled his eyes at the comment, forgoing telling the drunkard he was hundreds of years old. Above them, the sound of celebrating was muffled but audible, but Vanitas had a feeling that that wasn’t what Captain Rep meant. Vanitas looked down at the painting and then reached for it, expecting the captain to snatch it back, to threaten him, to aim the gun at him--he did nothing.

From the dim lighting, Vanitas was able to see an adult male and female and three small boys, all similar in appearance. The boys were all dressed the same, all had similar hair, the same shade of blue eyes--from what Vanitas could see. Claws had ripped through the painting and ‘blinded’ two of three boys. Triplets, his mind supplied, and Vanitas swallowed.

“...your parents and brothers,” he murmured. The captain snorted, the slosh of his bottle hissing as he took a few deep gulps.

“Just spirits now,” he said.

“What happened to them?”

“To who?”

“Your family.”

The captain laughed, wet and bitter, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve and smearing old blood along his lips in place of the booze. “They died, what more do ya need to know, leech?”

“The truth.”

The captain’s smile slid and he glowered at the vampire, gold eyes glowing in the light before he sighed and leaned back in his chair. The claws drummed on the table again and he sighed. “Life’s cruel, Vanitas.” he murmured and then sighed again. “Did you ever wonder how a commoner like myself knew how to read and write?”

“I did.”

“Ay. My family ruled the Isla del Destino, but where they only needed one heir to rule, they inherited three. One raised as a king, one a prince, and one...a waste of time. A commoner. My brothers got every single special treatment, and I...well, a waste o’ time in their eyes. A bastard would’ve been treated kinder’n I was. My nanny helped teach me to read and write, basic skills, but...it just enraged my family.”

The reavers stopped tapping on the table and he glared at the bottle, raising his eyes towards Vanitas with a grimace. “Once I came of age at sixteen, I was tossed out. So I did what anyone else would’ve done; I looked for a place to belong. I looked for revenge. Between the whippings, between the burns against my flesh, the way I’d be tossed into a brig overnight so my parents didn’t have t’look at me. If my parents knew I’d have never been wealthy, then I’d show them they were wrong.” he said with a growing grin, golden fangs glinting in the light.

Vanitas felt the puzzle piece click. “You...that’s how you got cursed.”

“Cursed, blessed, doomed--whatever you want to call it, I did. I came back home when I could and showed them the kindness tenfold.”

“...wait.” Vanitas recalled something. The mansion had burned down with no survivors, according to the reports. And then he felt a chill down his back. Rep would burn the buildings he ransacked, would tear into the survivor’s chests and devour their hearts, every single raid. Much like tonight’s. Much like  _ every  _ raid before then. It had become a habit, an  _ obsession,  _ for Rep to gain gold, to burn the wealthy’s hard work and leave them for dead--if he didn’t kill them first.

“And your brothers?”

Rep’s grin fell and he tensed his jaw. “They never cared about me before, of course it took being drenched in our parent’s blood for them to even  _ want  _ to talk to me. Begging for your life only works if you have a life  _ worthy  _ to be begged for.”

Vanitas looked down at the painting, the claws over three pairs of blue eyes, slicing through three faces and shocks of silver. Three little boys grinning and what looked like them holding hands. They  _ were  _ happy--and then they had to grow. Rep didn’t have a childhood because of circumstances so he made sure his brothers couldn’t have an adulthood. “You’re cruel, Captain.” Vanitas said, standing up and heading to the door.

“Life’s cruel, bloodsucker. We can only do what we can every day. Some of us were never meant to be happy.” he murmured, bringing the bottle to his lips. Vanitas gave him one final look before he sighed. 

“Good morrow, Captain.”

The captain said nothing, reaching for the painting with fumbling hands and sliding it back over to simply stare. Vanitas walked towards the steps and made his way carefully to the top of the deck where he sat back down with the crewmates and reached for his own beverage, getting his shoulder nudged by Xion and a tankard raised by Roxas, Vanitas nodding in kind. The band began to play their jaunty shanty and the ship erupted into drunken howling and singing, shoulders locked and booze spilling along the top of the wood.

Below their feet, the flintlock loaded and pressed to the captain’s temple.


	4. Cages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 4 Prompt: Cages/Caged

“Riku.”

Riku’s eyes open and he stares at the ceiling with a frustrated huff. He rubs at tired eyes and drops them to the blankets wrapped over his chest and then grips the sheets beneath his clammy palms. Off to the side there’s a shift of movement and then the sound of metal scraping, being tugged at. Being attempted to be broken through before it falls quietly. Riku blinks at the darkness in his room and turns his head to see two bright, yellow eyes, wide circles staring unblinking at him.

“Riku.”

“No, Sora,” he replied, watching one of the eyes split in two as the head moves, separating it from a complete view as the metal bar of the cage shifts in front of Sora’s--of his former boyfriend’s--eyes.

There’s a whine so similar to Sora’s and then it grows deeper, a growl that transmogrifies into a garbled growl towards the end. Black clawed hands grab at the bars and rattle harder with an irritated scream before falling still. Black wispy smoke erupts through the bars and those yellow eyes shift and come closer, face squished to the bars.

“Please?” ‘Sora’ murmurs, voice raspy. “Please, Riku?”

“No,” he growls, rolling over and covering his head with the pillow to drown out the noise. Sora had suffered a nightmare but before Riku got to it, the darkness erupted, shifting Sora into a form that was not-so-lovingly dubbed as ‘anti-form’. A shadowy, Heartless-like visage that covered Sora’s body. Black, smoke-like tendrils came off of him in waves, a soft little undulation or a wild thrash depending on how Sora’s emotions came to be.

But what really bothered Riku, what  _ really  _ got under his skin, was the fact that this Sora--his Sora--was gone while the darkness took over. And it did everything it could to entice Riku to come closer, to try and drink from his darkness or absorb his light. To play on Riku’s love for Sora to try and lure him closer like a fat plastic worm wriggling from a hook.

As if to sense it, the creature gave a low pained moan and bowed its head, sniffling. “Riku, it hurts,” the creature hissed, squeezing its eyes shut and cutting off all the light from the room. Riku stiffened and tightened the pillow over his ears harder to muffle the fake crying the creature had tried to make. The wailing was quiet but  _ painful _ , and for a long moment, he was convinced that that was true, that Sora  _ was  _ in pain. He very well  _ could  _ be but how would he know?

“Prove it,” Riku said and the beast quieted instantly. “Prove you’re in pain and I’ll make you feel better.”

The anti-form’s eyes opened wide and the beast shimmied in the cage, hindlegs shuffling excitedly. Clawed hands dropped from the cage and the creature paced quickly, body hitting the bars of the cage. Sora could fit in the cage easily but it didn’t mean it was designed for him. Getting him in there always broke Riku’s heart but he couldn’t chance letting the others know. If they knew Sora could still turn into a Heartless--into something close to one--then how could they trust him? They were guardians of light and they all had their issues, sure, but though Terra had been a Heartless  _ once,  _ it was because he  _ had  _ lost his heart.

Sora...was a special case.

“Body...hurts,” the creature moaned, sticking its face back to the cage and biting against the bar, sharp black teeth clinking against the pole for a moment before it forgot it was pretending, another quiet, painful moan. “Sit with me?”

“Will you feel better if I do?”

“Maybe…”

Riku sighed and got up, sitting in front of the cage and making sure he stayed a good way aways. Anti-form saw this and whined, the whine becoming an irritated scream, tendrils reaching through the bar but Riku was just far enough backwards the tendrils fell short, slapping to the ground and fading in irritation. “Come closer, I’m cold.”

“You said you were in--”  
“ _RIKU!”_

Riku raised an eyebrow, watching as yellow eyes shifted to orange briefly, clawed hands coming up to cover them and drag down Sora’s face, the creature sighing and then sinking down onto its ass to look pitiful. It hung its head and looked up through Sora’s bangs to sniffle at Riku.

“You don’t love me anymore, do you?”

“Stop it.”

“It’s true, you don’t.”

“I’m not coming closer.”

“Do you not trust me?”

“I trust  _ Sora.” _

The beast hissed, excitedly shifting again, as if it couldn’t sit still, clawed hands swiping at the tray on the bottom of the cage, a single blanket atop it. “I  _ am  _ Sora.”

“You’re not, enough of this shit.”

Anti-form’s forehead hit the cage and it slid down with a metallic clink, this time a properly miserable whine from the creature. This one sounded  _ too  _ close to Sora and it was enough that Riku raised his head and watched as the creature’s form trembled, black, shiny tears trailing down its face. “You don’t have to stay,” Anti-form spoke between sniffles, curling in on itself and tucking its feet together.

Riku sighed and carefully he came a little closer. Anti-form didn’t respond. “You’re in the cage because it keeps you and everyone else safe, Sora. it’s not because I don’t love you. You’re not acting right.”

“I am.”

“You’re not,” Riku repeated, reaching a hand forward. The beast’s head raised and a clawed hand reached through the bars to swipe, narrowly missing Riku who lurched backwards. “See, Sora would never try to hurt me. You just did.”

“You hurt my feelings!” it said, curling back in on itself.

Riku said nothing, turning around and facing his back to the cage. For the next hour or so it felt, Anti-form simply called his name, “Riku, Riku, Riku,” over and over, begged for him, begged for him to come closer, screamed, and then ultimately fell quiet. But in that time passing, Riku didn’t notice it was getting brighter outside, the sun just carefully starting to peek through the clouds of dawn.

The curtains were drawn but the light filtered through and stained across the bed, across the floor, closer to the cage. Anti-form shivered and watched with baited breath as the light came closer, came closer, closer still….

“Riku.”

Silence.

“Do you love me, Riku?”

He said nothing. The beast’s grin slashed across its cheeks. By the time Riku turned around, it had been too late: the tendril’s increased their length, the sun strengthened the shadows, and the cage door swung open with a loud clang. Riku raised an arm to summon his keyblade but the shadows were faster, six tendrils encircling whatever limb of his they could reach and the creature stalked closer on all fours.

“I love  _ you _ , Riku.” The tendrils began to squeeze. “ _ This much.” _


	5. Failed Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 5: Failed Escape/Where Are You Going?

Ventus collapsed in a heap and panted heavily through burning lungs. The sandy grit of the graveyard stung his knees and palms of his hands but he kept his head down, wiped sweat from his brow. He didn’t know why he was running, didn’t know where the exit was, didn’t know where  _ he  _ went. He was choking on his breaths and the stitches in his side were agonizing, just making his shaking legs tremble.

How long had he even been running? They won the war, he was living a good life, and then suddenly...he was torn from his bed through a dark corridor and placed onto the sands of the graveyard at night. He didn’t know why at first, but once he was told the reason, he felt his skin grow cold.

He’d killed Vanitas.

The replica that looked like Riku didn’t take too  _ kindly  _ to that.

In fact, once he found out  _ where  _ Vanitas went, he had snapped, the anguish and shock too much for him to handle. At first he had gone quiet, and then he’d gotten  _ mean.  _

And now, Ventus was running for his life like a rat in a literal maze. A rat, because the mouse king would’ve helped him if he knew, but a rat was expendable. A rat was little more than a snack to a ravenous wolf, the sound of footsteps  _ walking  _ towards him. Ventus gripped at the pillar wall to his left and climbed to his feet, starting to run again in teetering steps.

He was being toyed with. He was being meant to feel fear. And Gods, was he  _ afraid.  _ It felt like it did back then, the man emerging from the mist-like sand, blade on his shoulder, like it was the most common thing in the world. He was chasing Ventus but conserving energy like a predator, letting its prey run out of energy and then finishing them off when the prey fell from exhaustion.

Ventus may have slept for a decade but he knew what fatigue was and he’d passed that threshold ages ago.

“Come on,” he heard the voice say, echoing throughout the pillars that raised high above his head, “where are you even going?”

_ Away from you,  _ Ventus huffed, feet dragging into the sand.

He’d tried to apologize, to explain that it wasn’t just  _ him  _ who’d done the deed. Sora had been there with Aqua and Terra, too. They all had a hand in ending Vanitas, had all tried to convince Vanitas he didn’t need to leave, he could’ve stayed here with them all. But the replica didn’t care, gold eyes narrowed and blade raised.

Ventus had been the other half of Vanitas, had been his  _ light-- _ and Ventus took him away.

“So now,” the replica spoke, voice level as if he were doing nothing but describing the weather, “I’ll take  _ you  _ away.”

Ventus had assumed it a joke. There was no punchline.

He collapsed into the sand again and coughed what little air he could from his lungs. Everything ached and he couldn’t move any further. He glanced upwards and saw rusted hilts and handles of former keys, a star shining above as if they were each former wielder, a rose left upon their graves. He dropped his head to his forearm and sobbed, scrunching his eyes shut and ignoring the race of tears streaking down his face.

He’d die here, too, he thought, no key or friend to mourn him. Just another wielder lost to a useless war he didn’t want to take part in. Struck down by light or darkness, what did it matter? Death was death and it wore a heart for all to see.

Ventus made a noise and felt something against his stomach, rolling him to his back where blue eyes widened and looked up to meet gold ones. They glinted in the dark like eyeshine, locked to his and unmoving, unblinking. So like a predator looking down their prey. The replica’s face was neutral but that was where the fear came in: he wasn’t angry. Not yet.

“Giving up already?” the replica asked and Ventus set his jaw, reaching a tired leg up to kick but it was simply pushed aside.

“If I say ‘yes’ will you just kill me?”

Yellow eyes finally blinked. “No,” he replied, “Not until you tell me one thing.”

“What?” Ventus asked, chest still heaving with every breath into his shriveled lungs.

And then the replica’s face shifted. It was a small little change, a trick of the eye if Ventus thought about it, the way it twitched to the side almost robotically. Lips upturned on one side and sharp teeth glinted in the dark light. The blade raised and aimed at Ventus’ throat, hovering only centimeters from the jugular.

Ventus swallowed.

The gold eyes narrowed and the head twitched again.

“ _ Where is my Vanitas?” _

Ventus stared up at the replica with widened eyes. What? He...he  _ knew  _ where Vanitas went, where he was--gone. He’d  _ died.  _ Vanished and evaporated into the air as if he never existed, no replica body left behind just... _ gone.  _ Ventus closed his eyes. Denial. The replica had gone so far into grief that the denial had kicked in and kicked in hard.

Every single joke had a wind-up, didn’t it?

Ventus sighed and then laughed quietly, opening tired blue eyes and staring up at the wolf above him.

“He’s gone,” he said quietly, “and I killed him.”

Every joke had a punchline.

“I see,” the replica spoke, and the blade came down.

_ So why didn’t you laugh…? _


	6. No More (Dubcon)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Six: No More/Enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No sex happening this chapter but dubcon warning just in case. Sex pollen's my favorite kink, so much so my entire server has a 'dedicated canon' regarding the flowers. Rep's a good boy.

The cave mouth in the Realm of Darkness was closed off with a rock to ensure nobody would come inside. The cavern’s inside should be darkened but it wasn’t a hole in the top letting the fake moonlight pour through in a soft trickle. But nothing compared to the bright blue glow from the patch of flowers that grew in the dark. The flowers themself were a dark blue, scattered in even darker freckles and had their petals curling back like a spider lily. Inside the flower were long tendril-like pistils emerged, covered in a cyan pollen that glowed.

And therein was the problem: the pollen.

Vanitas had known about the flowers when Rep had told them exactly what they were, the fact that they were aphrodisiacs and potent. But whenever Vanitas sniffed the flower, all it did was cover his face in blue pollen and make him a little tingly. But it was when Rep took a sniff that the effects became evident. Within a minute, Rep was undressing, skin warm and sweaty, eyes going from a beautiful gold to a pastel pink. Rep looked beautiful when he got like this but there was always the problem once the male was sexually sated and coming down from the high.

It was the fact the high was ending at all.

He’d brush damp silver hair from his face and start whining, trying to reach over Vanitas to grab another flower, to start trying to lick any drop of pollen he could from the sheets or Vanitas’ face or hands, and when he wasn’t allowed, he got angry. He got mean and aggressive and would eventually get sad and shut down, completely disinterested in anything until the pollen well and truly worked itself from his system, leaving Rep the next day completely sore and with a pounding headache as if he’d done nothing more than get drunk.

In a way, Vanitas supposed he had, but there was the second problem. The flowers caused an addiction. Rep was usually good, would come to the Realm whenever he had to and do his duty, usually followed by another denizen with a coat. Usually it was Xion, the occasional Riku or Roxas. But whenever it was Vanitas, Rep was on his best behavior, always was. The issue was whenever those who  _ could  _ go were busy. This allowed Rep to sneak into the Realm and have a little taste, and since time ran differently there, a few hours missing was fine, right?

It wasn’t that Rep had  _ meant  _ to get addicted; the flowers, when utilized right, were intense pain killers and even used as salves against wounds. Watered down and mixed properly, they made fantastic panaceas and even worked well against blizzard magic, warming the user from within like a hot sip of soup in Winter. So it was natural they’d be cultivated. The darker denizens, Vanitas and Rep, had told the Guardians not to touch them or inhale them and would go and pick some for the others to ensure none partook.

Vanitas saw the familiar look in his partner’s eyes and sighed, raising his leg and kicking Rep square into the center of the field, summoning dark chains to hold down his lover even as the other’s eyes went wide and he fought to scramble himself back to two legs, out of the pollen. Rep had even stopped breathing, at least until the chains seeped into the dirt and pulled him down, ensured he was covered head to toe in the stuff. Vanitas had given him mercy by helping him undress, but for now he simply went back to his duties and started digging for seeds to put in a little pale as Rep began to thrash.

That had been six hours ago, and the high didn’t seem to stop.

Vanitas had been looking over on occasion when things sounded pained but Rep was doing just fine, grinding into the dirt, sobbing, getting mud beneath his claws as he gripped and scratched at the dirt. Getting off was easy but it wasn’t enough, he wanted Vanitas, he wanted more pollen despite being covered with it, and his moans had become hoarse screams and begs. 

“I’m helping you,” Vanitas said, turning his head away as he started to pluck petals from a dying flower to carefully look at them, “When people are addicted to something, they get help, and I’m helping you.”

“ _ Please!” _

_ “ _ You had two options. One was to come clean on your own and you didn’t.”

“ _ N-Need you…” _

_ “ _ The second is tough love. I’m going to make you never want these damn flowers again. You’re gonna take so much you’ll never want to even wear the color blue for the rest of your life.”

Rep whined, grinding against the ground. He’d long since gone soft, too spent to even make precum anymore. His face was covered in dirt, mud, and pollen, a mixture from his hot breaths and drool caking his cheeks with tear streaks slicing through softly. There were obvious signs of exhaustion on his body, the way he could barely move his hips despite his body screaming for him to. And even beneath that dirt and pollen, his pink eyes were shadowed and tired, lidded for several reasons.

Vanitas sighed and got up, stepping into the crushed flowers where his lover lay and crouched down to look into those pink eyes. He didn’t realize how much he missed the gold but he knew this punishment was for the best. He reached down and slipped his finger into the D-ring of the collar, feeling the little black heart tag clink in the motion. Rep whined from being lightly choked but that wasn’t Vanitas’ goal. He leaned forward and kissed those lips before he brushed some strands of silver hair away from Rep’s forehead, smiling sadly down at the naked main enchained.

“Have you ever heard the phrase ‘this hurts me more than it hurts you?’ The old man used to tell me that all the time, but I never believed him. How could hurting someone hurt you more than the person receiving it? Well...I think now I know.”

Rep whimpered, his entire body shivering and convulsing from another fruitless orgasm. It did nothing for him, the haze in his mind so strong that it offset the panic. Vanitas stroked his hair again and then gently reached over to pluck a fresh flower, pistil large and prominent and enough pollen coating it to make a honeybee jealous.

“Nnh…..m-more…” Rep tried, his entire voice broken. Vanitas twirled the flower between his black gloved hands and then looked over at Rep with a deep, disappointed sigh.

“Of course you’d want more. I’ll stay here with you as long as it takes, pet, I promise. I’ll get you feeling better but you’re going to feel worse, first.” Rep angled his head away but Vanitas was faster, reaching down his empty hand to grab at that chin and jerk it forward so wide pink met gold. “Look at me,” he said and Rep did, wincing enough that Vanitas caught a fresh tear fall. Vanitas should feel bad but he couldn’t tell what kind of tears they even were with his lover completely entranced.

“ _ Please,”  _ was all Rep could manage, nuzzling into the soft hand before it was gripping his jaw hard, keeping him in place and opening his mouth. Another tear fell and Rep tried to thrash but he was too weak, had no leverage chained down. Vanitas sighed and carefully kissed his forehead before pulling away, twirling the flower a final time before Rep sobbed openly.

“You’re getting coherent,” Vanitas said with a shake of his head, bringing the fresh flower closer

“N... _ nnh…”  _ Rep closed his mouth with a click and turned his head, making Vanitas jerk it back to the front. This time Vanitas slipped his hand on angle to wedge two fingers inside and pushed against the roof of that dry mouth, prying it open enough to get an annoyed grunt from Rep. 

“Open for me, pet,” Vanitas glowered, bringing the flower closer, pushing the first two petals into Rep’s mouth who whimpered, choking and trying to push it out with his tongue but Vanitas was faster, running his index and middle finger along the petals, pushing the pistil inside and coating Rep’s tongue in blue.

Pink eyes squeezed shut and this time the tears were obvious of their decision. Vanitas pulled his hands back and Rep slumped to the ground, two petals emerging from his lips as he grimaced and curled into a ball on his side, entire body shivering like a leaf.

“ _ Please,”  _ he whined and Vanitas frowned down at him.

“Please what?”

Rep openly sobbed as another dry, painful orgasm tore down his body, limp cock hanging uselessly against his thigh. “Pl-nnh-please...n-nn _ hh...n..no more.” _


	7. Carrying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day seven: Carrying

The dust had long since settled on the graveyard but though the Guardians had won, it felt entirely like a loss. Between Ventus having to say goodbye to his other half, and Riku needing to face himself and leaving a replica body behind, and even Roxas and Axel fighting to get Xion back, despite the happy moments, nobody felt it for long.

Aqua had been sitting beside Terra’s body for some time now and Ventus had said nothing. Despite a few streaks and strands of white in that chestnut hair, Terra’s eyes had returned back to blue before they shut and his body careened and crashed to the ground, dust covering his dark shirt and resting there. He wasn’t breathing and there was no heartbeat.

He may as well be a replica himself.

Aqua had quietly pleaded with the body for hours and Ventus had taken to doing it too to try and entice Terra to wake up but nothing had come of it. He was still missing his heart but they didn’t know where it had gone. With Xehanort defeated and the organization disassembled, there were no hints left. Riku and the King had gone into the Realm of Darkness to see if a heart had arrived there and the others took to checking the graveyard for signs. 

Everyone had turned up empty-handed and Aqua had slumped further.

It took some time to convince her to come back home with Terra’s body but once he was picked up and brought to the ship, she went quietly, sitting beside him and holding his cold hand. He never stirred minus some jostling of the ship. Ventus took to stroking back the wild fringe but fell silent. What could he even say? For all they knew, terra was gone, and he had spent the time sleeping while Aqua and Terra were trapped in the darkness.

Aqua had gotten out but Terra wasn’t so lucky.

Everyone tried their best, but their best, it seemed, wasn’t enough.

Even as the scientists poked and prodded Terra, they all deemed it the same: Terra’s heart was gone and without it, they’d never be able to get him back.

Aqua had sat at Eraqus’ grave and asked for advice and Ven sat on his bed and broke down. They had to be strong, but how could they, when they lost their strongest member, their strongest heart? Sora, at least, disappeared in one piece and could be retrieved when he was found but Terra...a puzzle piece missing the final token would never be complete.

And so for days and weeks, the Guardians who could spare a moment went searching for Terra’s heart on other worlds and towns, looking for any hint of where it had gone, bright and orange and beautiful. No Heartless seemed to have it, no worlds Terra had visited had seen any sign of him. And so for days and weeks, Aqua and ventus began to lose hope.

Even as Christmas rolled around, nobody felt like celebrating. Sora was missing still and Terra was lying there motionless like a doll, beautiful and flawed and  _ lifeless.  _ Aqua would take to giving him spongebaths when she could, making sure his hair was styled the way he liked, but it was never the same.  _ Terra  _ was never the same. All strands of white beneath the brown, too-long eyelashes resting delicately on his cheeks, splashed with tears Aqua couldn’t stop from falling.

It was shortly after New Years when they got their first sign.

Terra made a noise.

Everyone’s head turned at the table and Ventus jumped up like a shot, racing to the male’s side and toppling his chair and food with a loud clatter as he made his way. But Terra was just as motionless. They knew what they’d heard, they all did. But Terra was silent again.

A few days later and the same thing.

It got to the point Aqua had become angry. It felt like they were being toyed with, that Terra was perfectly fine and just resting. So why the hell wouldn’t he wake up?

It had grown to the middle of February and this time Aqua was  _ sure  _ she heard him make a noise; she had been lying with her head against the couch cushion, pressed to his side, when he groaned. His lips were parted briefly before shutting again and then Aqua fell back when darkness swirled at Terra’s chest. It was a small vortex at first, resting precariously against the middle of his breast, and then it widened further and further until a dark hand flew out and grabbed the edge of the couch.

She brandished her keyblade in instinct but as the shadowy monster came out of it, she could do little more than gasp and watch with wide, blue eyes and tears making her vision swim. There, tendril-like tail still attached to the vortex, hovered the Guardian, the Heartless in the graveyard. But where she expected it to grab her, to swipe or slash or swing, it did nothing more than look down at Terra.

It looked...sad.

“...hello?” she asked, and the head turned to look at her, almond-shaped yellow eyes rounding just a bit as a large hand raised and then fell, as if it couldn’t decide what to do.

“Your master is gone,” she said quietly, “You don’t need to follow orders.” The Guardian merely blinked, turning again to look down at Terra before it moved its hand slowly, very aware of how large it was. It simply moved a finger and stroked Terra’s cheek before turning back to her and hovering closer, turning its head directly at her keyblade before its head shook.  _ No. _

“You don’t want to fight.” Another shake of its head.

She dismissed her blade in a show of light and watched as the Heartless raised its hands to grab at the bandages around its mouth, scratching and prying and grunting in frustration as they remained, tight as ever. “Hold on,” she said, stepping onto the couch and grabbing at the bandages, unlatching them carefully as they fell away from its mouth.

The Guardian raised a hand and pressed fingers to exposed teeth and gums, turning its head towards her and then away. “Ah…” it grunted and then looked down at Terra. Carefully, it scooped Terra’s body up and watched as Aqua panicked. “Sssssssafe,” the Guardian spoke, carrying Terra’s body close to its own, looking down at that brown hair and brushing it back into proper order.

Aqua watched and laughed in disbelief. “You…”

The head turned.

“You  _ jerk!”  _ she hissed, laughing and wiping at her eyes. “You...you fucking  _ jerk!’  _

“...Ah…” The Guardian lowered its body just enough to press its forehead to hers. The body was cold but she felt nothing but warmth from the motion. Despite the Guardian’s permanent grimace, she couldn’t help but think it was smiling just a little. “Terra...is...home…” it murmured, and Aqua smiled. So, the heart was in the Heartless the whole time?

“He is,” she said, pointing at the Guardian. It shook its head and pointed at the window. Aqua scrunched her eyebrows and looked outside. All she saw was the lawn, the large brick wall, and Eraqus’ grave.

“No, he’s-” She turned and saw the Guardian still pointing. In the darkness, dangling on the grave, moved an orange wayfinder.


	8. Don't Say Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 8: Don't Say Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major Character Death warning

The first time Replitwo showed signs of breaking down, it’d been too late.

The replica bodies weren’t an exact science, and for one slammed through time and space, it was surprising he even showed signs of deterioration in the long run. Repliku had been fine, as healthy as he ever was when he was reincarnated, but it was the other twin who somehow suffered.

At first it was small things. He’d walk into a room and pause before leaving it as if he forgot what he’d been about to do. Nobody thought anything of it, typical human behavior. But as the days went on, things started to get noticeably different. 

It started with a cough. Rep would clear his throat or make a simple cough or two before he would go back to normal. Following this came the fatigue, where only a few swings of his massive keyblade would wind him, having him heave and hold himself up as if he had just run a mile. For someone who could--and would--fight with Vanitas or any Guardian who’d spar with him, it was cause for severe concern.

Replitwo insisted he was fine, and even the scientists in Radiant Garden told him he was fine. His vitals came back normal, his organs were all working perfectly, and everything came back as a clean bill of health. Vanitas had relaxed but kept a close eye on his partner, watching him closely as the days went by.

And for a while, things  _ were  _ fine; Replitwo was eating and drinking and sleeping quite normally. He was laughing and sparring and poking insults at the Guardians like nothing had changed. But as the day turned to night, Replitwo grew worse. More coughs, more fatigue. More tests. More signs everything was  _ fine.  _ So why wasn’t it?

The first time something was seriously wrong, everyone had seen. Replitwo’s eyes had rolled back and he simply collapsed in a heap on the ground. There had been no warning, and to make it worse, the small crowd that had formed around him all made various noises of shock and concern. Vanitas tore through the crowd and simply locked up.

Replitwo was having a seizure.

At the very least, some of the Guardians had at least been trained to deal with it, making sure he didn’t harm himself as he thrashed and twitched, throat making tiny noises and eyes wide in a panic. In the moments he had calmed down, Vanitas had already scooted close to his side, holding his head and wiping the silent tears that spilled as Replitwo breathed in deep gulps.

It had only gotten worse from there. Some days, Replitwo would grip the wall and slowly slide down it, consciousness fading. Other times, more seizures would occur, rendering him paralyzed and unconscious. The times he remained conscious were the worst because his pride got in the way and anger took over. But everyone knew the truth: he was scared, just as they were.

And try as they might, nothing helped. No medicine, cures, panaceas, or ethers. Experimental drugs and tinctures from the Realm of Darkness and surgeries: nothing worked. It got to the point that Vanitas was  _ terrified  _ to go to sleep because of one simple truth:

Replitwo’s body was failing him.

What was worse was the fact that Repliku, the original, was  _ fine.  _ No sickness or fatigue or paleness. He had turned to being a guinea pig to try and find a fix but the solution hadn’t been found and time was running out.

It had been a particular night a few weeks later when the room felt stifling. Replitwo had to be carried to and from bed, unable to walk anymore. He’d been paralyzed in the legs and usually just sat in bed or on the couch reading, looking listless and  _ awful.  _ It angered Vanitas; the once proud, powerful warrior reduced to a  _ wheelchair _ , to needing to be carried up stairs when he could jump five flights at a time weeks ago. Reduced to needing help to simply eat, vomiting up the food he managed to get down or shaking so badly with pins and needles in his 

fingers he’d drop his utensil. And if he could even  _ find  _ his mouth, once golden eyes reduced to a cloudy mess. Blinded.

Alive, but barely, a danger to everyone including himself, just by  _ surviving. Just by fucking  _ **_fighting._ **

Vanitas tucked him in and climbed in beside him, unsure of what to say but hating the fact that Replitwo broke the silence at all. He’d been quiet for days and he chose now to speak, to say everything  _ wrong. _

Replitwo rolled to his side and brought his cloudy gaze over towards Vanitas. His fingers gripped and picked at the pillowcase under his head and he pressed his lips into a smile.

“You know I care about you, right?”

Vanitas froze and lowered his gaze. “Rep, come on, you need sleep.” He couldn’t do this right now. He knew if he spoke, his voice would crack, that he'd start trembling and getting upset, and knew full well once he started crying he wouldn't be able to stop. Crying wouldn’t solve a fucking thing but it’s all he wanted to do right now.

Replitwo is silent for a long minute, his soft breaths audible and rasping despite Vanitas knowing he’s doing his utmost best to keep them quiet.  _ He’s suffocating.  _ Vanitas shut his eyes tightly as he heard the words. “You know I love you, right?”

“Rep, come on, please, you n-need your sleep.”

“I want to spend the night with you,” Replitwo urges, bringing those whitened eyes upwards to where he thinks Vanitas’ face is. He’s off by a wide margin and the sight of that patheticness drags claws into the meat of Vanitas’ heart. He can see Replitwo’s smile wavering but he’s doing his best to hold it steady.

“W-We always spend the night together,” Vanitas replies quietly. “We always  _ will.” _

“...you know you meant the world to me.”

“ _ Don’t fucking say that!”  _ Vanitas can’t stop the explosion of anger, of the tears spilling over his eyes with a vicious sting and a throb in his temples. “Don’t fucking say it like you’ll be dead tomorrow, you’re not going to die, do you hear me?!”

“Vanitas…”

“You’re not going away from me. We’re going to fix your replica body, okay, we’re going to put you in a better one. You just need to hold  _ on. _ ” Vanitas doesn’t realize he’s broken down, doesn’t realize he’s shaking the bed with wracking sobs, but he only catches control of himself when he feels a clammy hand on his forearm that missed twice before gripping softly.

“I can’t keep fighting, Vanitas. I’m tired. I’m tired and I don’t want to sleep.”

“But you need to s-” Vanitas pauses as the words replay in his head. “Rep...Rep, come on, don’t do this to me. Don’t fucking say you’re going to die. We brought you back once before, w-we can do it again, it’ll be f-fine! You’ll be  _ fine!”  _ he shouted but his body slumped when he saw Replitwo’s smile finally fall off, blinking dazedly. “Please...one more night with me...fight one more night!”

Replitwo says nothing for a long moment, chest raising and falling with every tightened, labored breath he manages to pull in. He blinks slowly, blearily, eyes searching and looking and trying to find his lover’s.

“ _ I don’t want to say goodbye, Rep.”  _ Vanitas whispers, clutching tightly to his hand. Replitwo’s gaze lowered, not that it ever found its mark. He gave a little nod and then moved over just enough to rest his head against Vanitas’ shoulder.

“You won’t have to,” he replied, rubbing his thumb over Vanitas’ hand.

_ You won’t have to,  _ Replitwo thought,  _ you won’t get the chance. _ Replitwo’s eyes slowly closed and for the first time in weeks his eyes grew glossy, full of life. 

“Hey, Rep…?” he hears, but the rest of the question grows fuzzy in his ears, and Replitwo sucks in a breath. “I lo-”

Replitwo’s head falls limp before the rest of the sentence can be heard.

_ Until my last breath, until my heart stops--I’ll always love you, Vanitas. You know that, right? _


	9. Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Nine: Run

“Run! The Heartless are coming!’

Sora could hear those words vividly in his ears even years later. Riku’s voice had been so shaken then, but he’d been doing everything he could to control his body which had been compromised, to hold back the darkness that threatened to overspill and destroy everything it touched, Sora included.

Even now as he was older, taller, stronger--the words seeped into his flesh. Even as he stood drenched in the remnants of blackness, blood like ink from the Heartless he slain left and right, Sora froze. He couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t eat, every time he closed his eyes in the shower to turn and rinse his hair of shampoo he saw blackness, he saw yellow eyes and sharp claws and  _ hunger. _

Even now he felt the tingling in his chest from the darkness within, ready to attack, ready to seep out of his pores as easily as sweat but thick as oil. Suffocating. Terrifying. The way it felt cold as it poured down his skin and overtook it, forcing his skin to drown in dark greys and blues and living shadows that covered him like paint but roiled off of him like smoke.

He was a monster, becoming the one thing he hated.

Darkness was within everybody. Riku had shown him darkness could be good if used properly but why then did it ruin him? Why then did it eat Riku from within, leaving him to fester and transform into someone he wasn’t? Why then did it erupt from Riku’s throat as easily as those vicious words he spat when they were younger, no longer goading and pushing but threatening and demeaning?

Why was darkness evil when light made him feel just as sick? Sora had killed Nobodies left and right for the good of the world but was that true? Light could be just as vicious, just as gruesome and cruel as darkness. It burned his throat and made his hands sting for hours after a beam of light singed from his keyblade’s blunt tip. It made his arms tremble and go numb whenever he dismissed the keyblade itself. If light was so good, then why did it hurt just as easily as darkness?

Sora sat on his knees in the graveyard. Everybody had fallen, had disappeared, absorbed into a whirling, ruinous vortex of black claws, emotionless faces, antennae and yellow eyes. Everyone had lost to darkness. But if light was so strong, how did this happen? Sora gripped a fistful of dirt and hung his head. Had they all been wrong the whole time, then? Was darkness actually something that was good, that needed to be balanced perfectly with the light? He felt a twinge in his chest from the darkness and he watched as Riku stood and turned, facing the demon tide as it swirled and stiffened, coiled like a snake preparing to strike.

Riku raised his keyblade and narrowed his eyes.

Sora stood beside him.

“Sora?!”

“Riku...run.”

“What?!”

Sora tossed a look over to Riku and gave him a soft smile. “I always find a way to protect everybody and come back, right? I need you to trust me for once. So...run. For once, just learn we can’t win every fight.”

Riku whirled and glared at Sora, “So you’re just going to die, is that your big plan? No chance.”

“No, I won’t die,” Sora said, taking a deep breath and watching as yellow eyes slowly changed from yellow to orange, deeper and brighter still to red. “Because I have a plan. And because you trust in me, so... _ trust in me one last time.” _

“Sora, I don’t--” Riku’s blade trembled and then stilled, falling flat to his side as his arm dropped and he sighed, exhaling deeply. “...okay. Okay. But you better make it back alive, you hear me?”

Sora tossed him a grin, “I will, Riku. I promise. I’ll see you at home.”

Sora watched briefly as Riku took a few steps back and then turned to run down the corridor of the graveyard, watching as his body disappeared into the sandy clouds billowing from the ground. When he was sure Riku was out of sight, Sora stiffened, raising his arm and his bright yellow blade to the demon tide, fully filling in an array of reds and oranges, ready to strike.

_ Run, the Heartless are coming! _

“So let them come,” Sora said, gripping his blade with his second arm, narrowing blue eyes. The tide flew upwards in a large arc and then swooped down, rumbling the very Earth beneath Sora’s feet in the force, and with an exhale, Sora fell limp, dropping his keyblade in a shower of glitter and light. He tipped his head back and raised up tall on two legs, puffing out his chest.

_ They’ll eat you alive. _

Sora shut his eyes and raised his arms wide, opening his chest.

_ People always told me to follow my heart… _

_ My friends are my power… _

The demon tide swarmed forward and absorbed Sora’s body, covering him in an array of darkness, limbs, and red glowing eyes. Sora screamed and then fell quiet, opening his heart to the monsters within.  _ We don’t need to fight. _

_ If this is all there is, if there’s just light and darkness… _

“We’ll be the darkness.”


	10. Blood Trail

The mirror of himself plunged their fist deeply into his chest, making his head tip back and his first instinct to scream. It echoed in the large rectangular arena, bouncing off of every massive pillar, cracking and chipping and spewing sad. His eyes stared blankly up at the sky and he felt his body careen and topple to the side, collapsing into a heap in the sand. His killer was vanquished, and the man he came from began to rush away into the next battle.

Replitwo remained. 

He should’ve died. They’d gotten him pretty good and if the gaping hole in his chest was an indication, he shouldn’t even  _ be  _ alive. They’d just narrowly missed his heart but the pain had remained, and it agonized him, even as sand and grit stuck to his teeth and tongue with every gasp he made. Breath was impossible and his body was growing cold despite the searing desert heat.

Vanitas. He had to get to Vanitas. He had to keep him safe. That was his promise: let’s run away somewhere together. He blinked drying eyes open and grunted, forcing himself to move.

It was hell. Every limb screamed for relief, for him to lie down and just  _ die.  _ It took him far too long to even stand up, some semblance of a crawl until he managed to make it to a wall to hold himself up. He could still fight. It’d be so easy to throw a dark pulse at some unsuspecting Guardian. If it meant he’d go out properly, then he’d do his best, he’d give them one final bite.

His vision was doubling as he rounded the corner and his boots dragged along the ground. He was leaving trenches in the sand but they’d cover up soon with the fresh waves of sand. He could do it, he could make it. He blinked rapidly and gripped at the wall, tripping and stumbling and crashing to the ground as he choked and sputtered. The sand entered his gaping chest hole and he sucked in a labored breath as the pieces of sand gouged his innards.

Not like this. He wasn’t going to go out like  _ this.  _

He worked his way back to two legs and he was moving, gripping at the pillar enough to splinter his claws. Please, let me make it in time…!

The long hallway’s trap disabled upon sensing where his loyalties remained but even without the obstacles just walking was more than difficult. Left, right, left, breathe...he was suffering. The more he stepped, the harder it was to walk. The blood loss was incredible and it wasn’t like he could even heal himself: a replica body couldn’t even use a Cure spell, it did nothing. No potions or healing items at all, he just had to suffer through it and he would. He  _ had  _ to, he  _ needed  _ to. 

He caught sight of a familiar white head of hair and grit his teeth. Terra was still taken under so then there was still a chance, but the male darted out of sight and Replitwo winced. Come on, come on, come on…

He fell again, this time punching the sand and scattering it across his body.  _ Just hold on! _

Replitwo opted to crawl this time, his legs giving out on him. He was weak, and no matter how much he moved, he couldn’t stop the sand scraping away inside his chest, couldn’t stop the way his breaths were agony, that his body was growing numb and had stopped feeling pain ages ago, tingling his fingertips and toes. He didn’t have much time, at the very least he could say goodbye, he could--!

He dragged himself to the final room and peered inside.

There was nobody. No Guardians, no Organization, no...anything. There were signs of struggle and magic spells cast about, the pillars encased in ice and scorch marks, but the graveyard section was silent. He clambered into the very center of the arena and paused. He saw something close by and he dragged himself deeper, leaving a trail of sand, sorrow, and sanguine behind. 

There, before him, lay a piece of black glass and he brought it close to his chest, holding it to the wound. He had no time to grieve, for even as he held the shard to his chest, something else glinted in his vision. There was a keychain, the remnants of some split gear, and he tugged it, discovering it was far too heavy to grab.

Squinting, he hoisted himself up on his elbows and looked. The keychain was still attached...to Void Gear. Replitwo’s heart hammered and he looked at the keyblade silently. The ever-present eye was staring skyward but even it seemed duller than he recalled. He moved to a sitting position as best as he could and gripped the keyblade in his hand.

He raised it as best as he could and sunk it into the dirt, holding tight to the hilt and looking over at the arena. Vanitas had done his best, and he could only bow his head and offer a silent word of thanks as the sandy winds howled through the empty corridor before him. The shard clattered from his hand and he glimpsed the bloody trail he’d left behind. He wouldn’t last, not without help, not when his chest had been forced open by a fist, by himself--and how ironic was that?

Replitwo’s head lolled and he felt his vision start to go black, clutching the blade tightly with his left hand. “Goodnight...Vanitas,” he murmured, catching a final glimpse of his golden eyes reflected in the helmet shard, wishing in his heart of heart that they weren’t his in the end.

_ When all of this is over let’s just run away together. _

Replitwo smiled, watching as his vision faded away into obscurity.

_ I hope that my heart will go wherever you are. _


	11. Crying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 11: Crying/Struggling

The last time Riku had cried, he was only a child. He’d made his promise to Sora on the night the meteors fell and then hours later, that girl arrived. For the first time in his tiny life, he’d felt jealousy, he’d felt anger. Sora had ignored him and it shocked his psyche to the core. For the first time in his life, he’d been ignored, he had seen that dazzling gleaming smile be pointed elsewhere...he had gone home, sat on his bed, looked out his window at the little islands and sobbed.

He hadn’t cried after that. Not even when he came home and checked the mail only to find a letter from his mother, explaining she and his father would be gone another month on business, that money was in the account and to buy groceries, the bills handled from afar. He didn’t cry whenever he turned off every light in the massive house, bidding his non-existent parents goodnight as he climbed the stairs and lay in his bed in silence.

He hadn’t even cried the day when he’d been rowing his little boar over towards the play islands and saw that two familiar boats had already been there, the distant sound of a male and female laughing as he got closer. Sora had always been his best friend and always  _ would  _ be, but the newcomer, Kairi, complicated things. Sora’s attention was always directed at her first and foremost, leaving Riku as an afterthought.

It got to the point that Riku discovered he’d only have Sora’s attention on him whenever Riku had goaded him into it, via a race or a spar or even a playful taunt. It was only then that Sora had decided to give him any time of day, the only time he could see that dazzling smile aimed at him was whenever they rounded the corner in a full sprint, making their way to the large star-shaped object.

Riku didn’t only want to goad Sora into being his friend, into reminding him that Riku still existed. He didn’t want to have to have a  _ need  _ to get Sora to look his way, to talk to him like they used to. On the rare occasions Kairi stayed home, Sora had been overwhelmingly fun to be around like the old days, though with more hand-eye coordination and way more fun to playfully spar. Sora had gotten older but they all had, after all. And when the idea came to build a raft and go, Riku had been slipping his shoes back on on a small outcropping when he’d heard the voices speaking on the dock.

Hers. “Let’s take the raft and go--just the two of us!”

He paused, making sure he heard it right. He’d grabbed all the wood singlehandedly, had learned how to build and craft, had studied his father's seafaring books and compasses and maps all for them: and they wanted to leave him behind.  _ Riku’s changed, hasn’t he? _

No, it wasn’t him, it’d been  _ them. _

It’d been  _ her. _

He said nothing, getting up and heading down the pathway to the small wall covered in ivy, slipping underneath and entering the cave mouth with some difficulty. It’d been so much easier as kids, but now he’d had to duck and shimmy carefully within to get inside. The hallway was narrow but it opened up into a circular area covered in moss, mushrooms, and mildew. He looked over at the walls, where Sora and he had drawn with sharp rocks, turning the secret place into a mural of childish ideas and fantasies. Riku stood with a crown, slaying monsters, the king of the play island. Sora drew flowers and dinosaurs and swords. 

Riku looked over at the rocks and laughed softly, raising fingers to the jagged doodles and reaching down for a rock when he hesitated. The door still remained, knobless and stalwart, a faint gold in the dim of the cave. He walked over towards it and placed a gloved hand to the wood, stroking down softly and coming back with dusty fingertips, cyan eyes roving over it. It had been here since...ever, really, and if it didn’t give a wiggle, he’d have assumed it was a fake door. No doorknob but a hinge, still oiled to this day but unable to be moved. Another world.

He’d been foolish. How could he even think there was a new world when he couldn’t even fix the one here? When his  _ own  _ world, Sora, didn’t even give him a second thought? He sighed, bending down and grabbing at the rock, sitting on his knees to start a new drawing. He brought the jagged edge to the smooth stone face and paused. A drawing was visible to his right but only faintly. He’d stared for a long moment to make sure he was seeing it right. The one last rock wall he and Sora had saved for when they were adults and there was a fresh drawing there.

He scooted closer and squinted before he saw what it was with pathetic night vision. Sora...and Kairi. A star between them, Sora handing it to her. No, not a star, a  _ paopu.  _ He felt his arms begin to shake and angry tears pricked at his eyes but he refused to let them fall. He raised the rock in preparation to scribble the drawing out but he hesitated, instead letting the rock in his hand fall.

He sat on his knees for a long while. The cave only grew darker and the muffled sound of the waves and slight dripping from the cave’s ceiling burned in his head, in his thoughts. They wanted to leave him behind. They wanted to share a fruit, a destiny--without him. What wasn’t good enough? What wasn’t right with him to the point  _ she  _ said he’d changed? What was making his anger coil up in his belly like a viper, venomous and dangerous, ready to lash out at the next person he saw?

And when the robed man spoke to him and told him he could be stronger, could be better, could visit other worlds with Sora in tow, just the two of them, well...who was he to refuse? Riku was always called selfless, had always wore his heart on his sleeve, always gave up whatever he could to make those around him happy. Going to other worlds would have made Sora happy...until she came along.

What she wanted she couldn’t have.

What she wanted was Sora.

_ Sora was his. _

He stood on the sandy beaches and watched the sky swirl, a black and purple wasteland that ripped across the dunes, splitting the ocean and sending waves into a frenzy, the ball before him like gravity. Darkness. His final wish. She took his world away from him so he’d take away hers in retaliation. Even as he extended his hand towards Sora, he got those blue eyes on his, a desperate sort of grab for him, to save him.

There was no saving him from destiny, no saving him from fate. Riku had disappeared and so, too, had Sora, had Kairi. And when he found her again she was dead inside, staring blankly at the floor.

_ She’d lost her heart and it was all his fault. _

He stared down at her for a long time before he felt his eyes begin to sting with building tears.

_ She’d lost her heart and it was all his fault. _

He gave a bitter laugh and scooped her up, holding her close to his chest.

“How does it feel, huh?” he asked her quietly, tipping his head to the sky as he watched a star blink out. Sora can’t give you that one, either. The tears began to spill over his cheeks but they weren’t from sadness or anger or fear. Riku felt  _ good.  _ Riku felt  _ powerful.  _ He’d gotten what he wanted--the competition was gone.

_ She’d lost her heart and it was all his fault. _

The tears splashed along her sternum and Riku laughed, mirthless and wild, darkness tingling just beneath his fingertips. The jealousy within him seeped through every muscle, the Heartless beneath his feet emerging from their master’s beck and call.

The  _ princess  _ lost her heart.

A princess without a heart couldn’t  _ love. _

A heartless princess could never win Sora over.

_ She’d lost her heart and it was all  _ **_Sora’s_ ** _ fault. _


	12. Broken Bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 12: Broken Bones

Another scream ripped through the woods. If someone had told Vanitas that his dream job would turn into his nightmare he’d have scoffed and brushed them off. Working at the wolf sanctuary had been his favorite thing in the world and for the past three years it hadn’t changed. At least not until Rep showed up, the wolf saved from the circus. It wasn’t uncommon for the sanctuary to get older animals, or animals from other zoos. They mostly raised the wolves but there were smaller animals too like horses and donkeys for the kids to pet.

But it also meant that they had to learn about the new animal. And Rep, well, he came to them an enigma, with silvery fur and yellow eyes, far too human the way they watched lips, the way he’d practically react to conversations. Rep had taken a liking to Vanitas immediately and that was how the other wolves had been, too. He had this sort of aura that animals liked and because of it, he’d become the main spokesperson for the tours, starting howls and playing with the wolves.

Vanitas would laugh and bat away giant paws, getting his hair mussed up with spit. But Rep didn’t like that and in a strange display, it almost seemed like Rep was exhibiting  _ jealousy.  _ Rep, despite not being quite fully integrated into the pack, had started snarling and lunging at even alphas to get them away from Vanitas, following him around and trying to rub against him, licking his hands and whining if he went into the woods or the break room. The rest of the sanctuary joked that Rep had taken a liking to Vanitas like an old girlfriend and they laughed it off.

Until, at least, one night when the cameras had picked up on a naked human wandering the acres of the sanctuary. The cops had been called but they found no signs of a break-in, assuming it had simply been a drugged-out individual looking for a place to hide or steal stuff. They installed more cameras and the person was never seen from again. It had been a few months after that when Vanitas had been cleaning out the dens and had slipped into Rep’s to grab the blankets for a good washing when he tugged the bundle in the corner and froze.

There, curled up into a ball, was a naked human. They had silver, wild hair, pale skin, a body full of scars and...a tracking collar. Yellow eyes snapped open and twisted towards Vanitas’ and Vanitas simply froze.

“...Rep?” he asked, and the male simply stared for a moment before, in the blink of an eye, a large, silvery wolf was tackling him to the ground, tail wagging like wild and a tongue desperately finding a bared strip of skin to lick. Rep wasn’t just a circus wolf, Vanitas came to discover, but a werewolf. Some days Rep never appeared from his den and they simply assumed he didn’t want to be around the others but it made more sense now that he sometimes had to return to human form.

Vanitas had asked about a true werewolf form and Rep would look scared, shrinking into himself and changing the subject or simply getting up to leave. He couldn’t fathom  _ why  _ that was--until he’d started dating the wolf, until one fateful night things had gotten a little hot and heavy and Vanitas had screamed, thrashing and trying to get free of the male that had sunk fangs deep into his neck and sprayed blood to the sheets.

Vanitas had been hospitalized and his tests came back as negative for rabies, the wound leaving a silvery-pink scar that was hidden pretty well with his normal t-shirt. Rep had been careful since then, remaining in wolf form at the sanctuary as he always had and taking care of Vanitas when the others left. Some nights, Vanitas would stay late and sleep in Rep’s den, covered in blankets and fur. It was cozy and instincts told him to stay in the warmth, to run his fingers through Rep’s fur and breathe the scent in deep. And as the days went on, Vanitas became more wolf-like.

His howls were less human, and everything in him told him to stay late, to stay in the den, to assert his place in the pack. He’d even start growling and snapping at Rep if he came too close, making the wolf’s ears drop and a small ‘ _ woo’  _ to erupt from his throat, a low whine and tail tucked. It got to the point that Vanitas was feeling  _ itchy,  _ the way he felt weird in his own skin. He would soon discover why.

It had been one night in Rep’s den that Vanitas felt weird. Rising nausea tore through his body and he curled into a ball, clutching his stomach in pain. Rep took to curling up beside him and licking his neck and hands, whining and pressing his ears tight to his head. Vanitas was in agony, tearing off all of his clothes with difficulty and sitting there in the cold den, body inflamed and sweating. Every breath was harder than the last and he grimaced, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Vanitas?” the wolf asked, now a human sitting beside him, helping take off Vanitas’ boots as the male started to grip at his chest, raking nails enough to leave dark pink lines. “Talk to me,” he said. Vanitas couldn’t. Everything in him was burning, his stomach was churning, and he rolled enough to vomit into the dirt, making Rep growl. He’d apologize for ruining the den later once he was over this sickness.

“Vanitas, you need to leave,” he said urgently, tugging the hand with his own and pointing to the den entrance.

“N-No, it hurts-!’ Vanitas moaned. Rep whined again and carefully, he scooped up Vanitas and half-dragged him outside. The grass was cold and the night sky was practically black, stars barely lining the expanse. Through the trees he saw a flash of yellow and Vanitas sucked in a deep breath before he screamed.

He writhed on his back, feeling his ribs snap, making room for the wide breaths his lungs were taking. He screamed, watching through tear-filled eyes as his fingers snapped, locking in place and shifting violently out of place. Rep had shifted back to wolf form, whining low and taking steps back, pawing at the dirt. He was shaking his head as if to say no, staring up at the sky and then at Vanitas, whining low and sticking his nose against his neck to try and roll him.

But Vanitas couldn’t move. He had only managed to make it to his side before he felt his spine crack and lengthen. It sent it off balance and it wasn’t until he felt his spine  _ move  _ did he realize why; he had grown a tail. From there the pain only escalated, and he watched in horror as his feet shifted, his big toe sliding from place to crawl up his lengthening foot as a dewclaw. Every breath he took conflagrated his lungs, his nose burning with every breath. His jaw clicked and cracked, shifting out of place, making his gums itch as teeth started to fall out of his mouth.

He was sure tears were streaming down his face but he couldn’t tell anymore, feeling sharp edges sliding through the gaps left behind in his gums. All he tasted was blood and dirt, and the whining of Rep was growing too loud in his ears, which he realized were no longer on the side of his head.

He tried to call out for Rep but his mouth no longer worked, his tongue lolling uselessly from his mouth. From his fuzzy vision he watched as black fur started to grow and thicken on his arms like grass in timelapse, covering his tan flesh until he saw nothing left beneath. He gave a testing move of his hand but all he saw was the curve of wicked claws and paw pads where hands once were.

Vanitas winced, clambering to all fours with a sharp whine. His bones were still broken and he could feel a burning, sloshing in his torso before he realized what it was: his organs were shifting into their new places. He had transformed and was continuing to. He was exhausted and starving, every ounce of his body was tingling and numb and yet somehow  _ warm.  _ He was on fire, lying in the cold grass, and Rep was staying far away from him.

From his spot on all fours, he took in an inhale and then another, another...meat. There was meat here…

He gave a low growl and started for the break room but Rep was quicker, grabbing his tail in his jaws and growling low, telling Vanitas no. Vanitas growled and jerked away, instinctively standing on two legs, towering over the silvery wolf that snarled and snapped at him. The black werewolf snapped equally powerful jaws, sending saliva flying and swinging at Rep, slicing through that silvery hide as the wolf yelped and jolted away, ears pinned to its head. 

The werewolf raised its head and sniffed audibly, rearing back and giving a deep howl. The wolves loved to howl with Vanitas, but not a single voice replied to match his call. Rep whined low, licking at the rends in his side, but he kept his eyes on the large black werewolf currently sniffing, taking in its surroundings.

There was meat in the breakroom but Rep knew Vanitas wasn’t craving a turkey corpse or deer chunks, but the humans working inside, unaware that there was a hunter outside reading for its first meal. Vanitas sniffed again, thick strands of saliva trailing from his quivering jaws and Rep lunged again, biting deep into the calf of his lover. Vanitas snarled, grabbed the wolf and tossed it, making the wounded wolf yelp again and roll, lying motionless on the ground.

Vanitas licked his jowls and moved down to all fours, stalking closer to the break room. Hungry...so, so hungry...


	13. Delayed Drowning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 13: Delayed Drowning

_ “Because I’m sick of this, Rep, I’m sick of you. Did you ever wonder why I kept running off to bars, why I didn’t come home some nights?! I found someone better, when will you fucking realize I don’t love you anymore?” _

The words echoed in Vanitas’ head over six months later as he made his way to his brother’s front steps. The porch had been decorated to the nines with Christmas ornaments and decorations, strung up with rainbow-colored lights and plastic glowing reindeer. A big, garish wreath hung up on the door with a little placard in the middle saying ‘happy ho-ho-holidays’ and Vanitas grinned dryly.

“You okay?” Ephemer asked, holding Vanitas’ other hand. Vanitas nodded and knocked, hearing a muffled ‘coming!” over the music. He took in a deep breath and felt his limbs lock in place. He loved Sora dearly but Sora was dating Riku, and Riku always brought his two brothers, Ritsu and…

“Hey!” Sora said, brown hair smoothed down and contained underneath a massive black Santa hat, “I know, I know, it’s my Halloween hat, I accidentally dropped the red one in some wine and now it’s all stained, I--come in, come in,” he said, opening the door wider. Vanitas and Ephemer took their shoes off at the door and just from the hallway it was obvious Sora had, as usual, gone all out. The railing to the stairs had been covered in fake snow fabric, glittery in the lights. Trailing up the stairs Vanitas caught sight of multiple stockings and at the tip of the steps he saw another plastic reindeer.

He smiled, letting Sora take his and Ephemer’s jackets and introducing him to his brother. “Nice to meet you, Eph! Can I call you Eph, I didn’t even-”

“It’s fine,” the silver-haired boy said, replying with a beaming grin. “A lot of my friends do, easier on the tongue.”

“Well, come on in, dinner’s almost ready, there’s wine and champagne and if you don’t drink, Aqua made some beverages you’ll probably like,” Sora said, leading them to the louder kitchen. It was full to the brim of all sorts of people, every single face Vanitas recognized from years of being around these people. He knew their names, a little bit about them, but he wouldn’t consider him friends with them unlike his brother.

Tucked in the corner playing some game was the Twilight Town gang as they were so lovingly called. Hayner was currently leaning to the side with his tongue poking out and Pence was mashing a button, Olette and Kairi currently cheering on the current winner in a raucous shouting. Off to the side, the sea-salt trio was currently texting, sending each other pictures they’d taken of Sora’s house for Roxas to save so he could edit them later for the family holiday card. 

Vanitas felt his heart lurch when he saw a familiar head of silver hair, but seeing it was Ritsu he felt his heart sink and anger set in.  _ Stay calm,  _ he thought,  _ stay calm.  _ He couldn’t risk spewing out an Unversed during the holidays, despite how badly he knew this day would come. Medication helped but it wasn’t some magical cure.

Ritsu was currently helping Namine string up some lights that had fallen, holding the stepladder steady as she climbed a little higher, his other arm holding her legs and smiling as she wobbled, shooting him down a pout as he apologized. Still, she returned it with a smile and he made sure to hold her steady, watching as she tacked up the light and catching her as she hopped down the few inches.

Ephemer had taken to everybody kindly and had even listened to Sora talk his ear off for a long while before he was taken by Terra, who recognized him immediately and waved him over to Ventus and Aqua. Vanitas had lingered with his hands in his pocket, feeling the scratch of his black denim jacket and realizing just how cold he suddenly felt alone. He somehow circled the house and hadn’t seen hair nor hide of Rep and that was probably for the best. Rep wasn’t one for parties but then again, neither was Vanitas; he just felt obligated to come up to the house to celebrate since Vanitas was Sora’s only family left.

He was shaken from his thoughts when Sora rushed to the door and opened it up, cheerfully greeting the next guests. A small, black-haired girl stepped in first with a bow, taking off her shoes and exasperatedly handing off her jacket to Sora. And then  _ he  _ stepped in, dressed in a leather jacket with a v-neck shirt, a necklace hidden somewhere beneath the neckline. Sora had given him a hug and Rep had returned it stiffly, gesturing to his guest who smiled and shook Sora’s hand properly.

Vanitas watched, transfixed, as Rep lightly ruffled her short black hair, making her pout and smooth it down before he smiled, bending slightly to kiss the crown and then...they held hands. He gestured for her to go to the living room with him and they came down the hall with Sora in tow. Rep was mid-sentence when he looked up, catching Vanitas’ gaze. Vanitas saw him swallow and watched as he turned the corner with the girl, disappearing from view.

Bile filled in Vanitas’ throat and he reached for the nearest wine bottle and glass. Tonight would be rough. Of course he’d show up, and of course he’d show up with someone  _ new.  _ After six months--Vanitas froze. Vanitas had done the very same, showing up with someone new. Sora didn’t ask; he knew better not to, knew the truth without saying a word. Vanitas could just barely make out the couch and Rep stood to the side of it, hand in his pocket, a small champagne glass in hand. The black-haired girl was sitting on the arm rest and smiling up at him, pointing at whatever game the Twilight Town gang was playing and excitedly saying something.

Rep didn’t seem as enthused but he was always sort of neutral expression-wise yet he seemed just as invested, crouching down on the floor to sit on his knees and also gesture at the television, turning to look at her and saying something that made her smile, making her push his shoulder and having him grin back.

“Something wrong?”

Vanitas jolted, shaking his head and looking over at Ephemer who’d slipped his arm through Vanitas’.

“It’s okay to be upset, Van,” Ephemer said, looking over at where Vanitas had been staring moments before, “You had a life with him once, it’s alright to feel upset by him moving on. He probably feels the same.”

“He doesn’t.”

Ephemer laughed and shook his head, “Only way you’d know is if you asked.” Ephemer clapped his back twice and made his own glass of wine, listening as Sora called them all for dinner. 

Dinner was just as awkward. Everyone else seemed to have their own conversations and cheer. It wasn’t that Vanitas had  _ meant  _ to stare for most of it but Rep was there across from him a few seats further down. He was having a conversation with Ritsu and Namine had excitedly been having a conversation with Xion-- Roxas had told Vanitas her name a bit ago. Xion had been currently trying to subtly steal a bite of what looked like cheesecake from Rep’s plate and he’d been gently pulling it away underneath his arm so she couldn’t get it, making them both realize the other had been pulling a prank and ending up with Rep’s laugh being heard above the human of happy, conversing friends.

Vanitas tossed back another glass of wine, scowling at his turkey. He wasn't hungry anymore.

It wasn’t until a little after dinner did Vanitas stumble from the house, holding the wall and slipping his shoes on. He stepped into the cold balcony and paused, almost bumping into Xion who apologized.

“You’re with Rep, right?” Vanitas asked, slipping into his pocket for a cigarette. She nodded, and as if to prove it, she held the leather jacket tighter to herself.

“Yeah, I had to run out to the car for something but I didn’t know where Sora put the-”  
“Upstairs, second door on the right, big coat rack.”

“I’ll remember it, thanks!” she said, giving him a wave and heading back into the house. Nice girl, far too nice for someone like Rep. Or maybe just nice  _ enough _ , enough to wipe off the dirt on the mirror, to pull the curtain back on the things Vanitas had done. So unfulfilled in his love life that he’d left the house to get drunk and fool around rather than just  _ tell  _ Rep what he could do better.

The way Vanitas would come home smelling like another man, cologne that he didn’t leave with and sometimes torn clothes, kiss marks and hickeys on his neck. Rep got mad, he  _ always did,  _ but the idiot always fucking stayed. And for what, because he  _ loved  _ Vanitas? Did he love knowing the fact that Vanitas had found someone better, had met Ephemer by complete accident and started seeing him more and more? Did Rep like reading the text messages Vanitas purposely left open on the table, or emails he left visible on the laptop?

Why the fuck did Rep stay awake night after night knowing Vanitas was out fucking another, knowing Vanitas was out drinking his weight in booze to get rid of the misery in his life? Why did Rep stand in the kitchen with crossed arms and raised shoulders, just getting yelled at by Vanitas because Rep was blocking the path to the bedroom? He didn’t want to  _ ‘ _ talk it out’, he didn’t want to wake up to yellow eyes, he wanted--

He rubbed at his eyes, realizing they’d started to prickle. Of course Rep would make him cry on Christmas. Of course Rep would come where he wasn’t welcome with a girl who was too nice and only sipped on one glass of champagne. Of course he’d fucking  _ laugh and smile  _ like he was rubbing it in.

Vanitas was supposed to be happy so why did he feel awful?

His hand slapped at the railing of the balcony and he felt his stomach churn. He tamped down the Unversed threatening to spawn and swallowed it down with the taste of bile and alcohol. He wasn’t going to purge outside of his brother’s house over  _ this.  _ He fumbled for a cigarette but his hands were shaking too badly and the carton fell into the snow, making him swear and try to grab it, fumbling and missing and swiping at the cold instead. The anger started to build, another churn in his stomach, burning his esophagus.

He clamped a hand over his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut as he willed the Unversed down. He focused hard on deep breathing but it wasn’t doing well at all, especially not when the door opened.

“Vani?” he heard Rep’s voice and he punched at the snow.  
“Fuck off, Rep,” Vanitas snarled through his fingers, hunched over in the dark. Rep shut the door behind him and came closer, crouching in the snow to pick up the cigarettes and hand it back to Vanitas who slapped it away back into the snow. He heard a sigh and Rep reached for them again, making Vanitas grab his wrist.

“I said fuck off,” Vanitas repeated and Rep simply stared.

“And?” he replied, picking at the cigarettes and pocketing them himself, making Vanitas move to shove him, stumbling forward instead. Rep instinctively reached for him and Vanitas hit his arms with an angry shout, pushing off of him and falling back.

“I said-!”

Vanitas’ eyes went wide and he clamped both hands over his mouth, ichor bubbling up through his fingers.

“Did you take-?”

Vanitas shouted through the tar, trying to will the Unversed back down but they refused, resulting in a tug of war. The Unversed refused to go down but Vanitas did his best to force them, making them stick in his throat. His eyes widened further and he realized he was choking. No, he was  _ drowning,  _ in his emotions and alcohol, in anger and sadness, in jealousy and loneliness. He was ripping at his mouth and nose but the tar continued to seep and bubble out.

“Vani!” Replitwo shouted, looking at the door and then rushing forward to help tear at the Unversed that threatened to spawn. “You know you can’t fight it, you gotta let it out.”

Vanitas shook his head and winced, a thick glob rushing up through his nose. He couldn’t breathe, he was panicking, and the panic was only filling the emotion of the Unversed. Having Rep here was the worst thing he could do and it seemed he knew that, Rep getting up to race to the door and slamming it shut behind him.

He only emerged seconds later with a terrified-looking Ephemer, wearing Rep’s coat. The anger that boiled in him disappeared almost instantly when Ephemer came closer, hugging him and trying to settle Vanitas’ nerves. Smaller hands tugged at the ichor and started to pry a forming Unversed from Vanitas’ throat.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Ephemer repeated, a wave of ‘shh’ and gentle words, letting Vanitas know to let go. And he did. Violently, like a rubberband, Vanitas inhaled an empty breath and came to terms with his emotions.

_ I made a mistake. _

The Unversed slipped from his body and Vanitas took in a deep breath, coughing and spluttering and vomiting onto the ground in a final, violent burst. The Unversed wiggled and writhed, and as if to betray Vanitas’ emotions, it turned to look crooked red eyes over at Rep who simply stared back, leaning against the house as the adrenaline left him. The globby creature made a deep noise and turned to stare at its ‘father’ who simply sliced it in two, taking the hit and sitting in the snow.

Vanitas buried his face in his hands and inhaled, shaking viciously and finally breaking down. Ephemer was there in an instant, and without thinking, he draped the large leather coat over Vanitas’ shoulders as the crying male curled up tighter. Rep took a step back and exhaled through his nose, silently opening the door and leaving the cigarettes on the wreath.


	14. Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 14: Fire

“Feels like back then, doesn’t it…?”

Xion was the first to speak, making Vanitas and Replitwo turn their heads to look at her. It was a warm summer night but the breeze by the beach was cold, causing her to shiver and curl into a smaller ball. Her eyes glinted in the campfire and the others said nothing, both dropping their heads. The Guardians had suggested the three go on a vacation to the islands since none of them had ever really gone or gotten to enjoy it. It had been a good time, at least, until the sun went down and they made a small campfire, sitting around it.

The sand was growing cold really fast beneath their feet and it reminded them suddenly of the graveyard. 

“Yeah, kind of,” Replitwo said, working a stick into his dinner’s mouth, spearing it through the fish’s gills. “The islands aren’t bad but they’re…”

“Stifling,” Vanitas finished, rubbing at his bare chin. He had long since settled down and resigned himself to poking at the fire, watching it crackle. “I used to make fires every single night, it was the only warmth I had sometimes.”

“Oh, but-” Xion started but Vanitas quieted her with a hand raised and a shake of his head.

“It’s fine, really. It’s all in the past. It’s just...strange, now.” He looked around the island, from the sandy beach, to the paopu tree, to the small waterfall they used to wash the salt off of their bodies from their ocean swimming earlier. The islands were beautiful and calm and that was what scared him. 

Calm.

It scared all of them.

“Did you ever think about the fact we were in the wrong?” Xion asked, taking a raw fish speared from Replitwo and digging it into the sand to cook along the fire.

“We were,” Replitwo said, “Plain and simple. Feels like we just joined a funeral march if I’m being honest.” Xion had a sort of excuse since she couldn’t remember much but at least she came out of it unscathed. She got to live and be a teenager for a little while until the other two had been resurrected into replica bodies, a temporary solution.

Replitwo twisted his fish a little and then sighed. “Does it even matter? Everyone made it out alright, Sora came home and we’re all alive. And now…” he laughed but there wa sno humor in it. “And we’re sitting here on a beach discussing how we  _ died.” _

“The irony’s not lost on me,” Xion said, pulling at her sweatshirt and tugging it enough at the zipper to show off her sternum where a faint ‘X’ was scarred. A brand, the price to pay for her existence. “None of us made it out without damage, huh?”

“No,” Vanitas replied, “But maybe that’s fine for us.” He sprinkled some sand onto the fire and made it hiss and crackle. He moved his hand towards it and then back, swirling a small fireball inches above his palm before he blew on it and extinguished it. “We’re like fire. We can be aggressive and cruel, hurting everyone with no discretion,” he said, grabbing for another fireball but this time sending it skyward like a lantern.

“Or we can be a savior, protective and warm to those that matter,” Replitwo finished, taking his fish from the fire and twirling it so it cooled down. “Too bad nobody would ever give us that chance. We’re only with the Guardians so they can keep an eye on us. Less Xion, since she’s got the other two.”

“Not true,” she huffed, shaking her head and adjusting her sweatshirt. “They’re a little afraid of the darkness but after the war it feels like there’s some respect.”

“Respect.” Vanitas laughed, tossing his head back with a shake of his head. “No, fear and respect are two different, closely related things. The thinnest of lines to walk.”

“You really believe that?” she asked. 

“I do.”

“I don’t.” came Replitwo’s response, making the two look at him. He was tossing fish bones into the fire and shrugged. “A lot of them have spent far too much time in the dark for them to outright hate it. Fear and respect are close but different but maybe that’s why they try so hard to understand it. Understand  _ us.  _ I don’t believe that that’s our second chance but maybe it’ll be what we need.”

“Well...we’ll find out.” Vanitas replied and Xion sighed, looking over at the ocean.

“Maybe we’re not fire,” she said, “But it’s nice to feel the warmth of light again.”


	15. Possession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 15: Possession

When he’d agreed to the darkness, he hadn’t quite read the fine print. The darkness had slipped underneath his skin and nestled there nice and cozy and warm, unmoving. At first, it had been wonderful. Riku could close his eyes and feel the gentle thrum of every shadow squirming beneath his muscles, untapped power and potential just waiting for his beck and call. All it took was a simple wish and they responded to his every whim. All he had to do was close his eyes and see the black beneath his eyelids, watch it amalgamate into twin flashes of yellow, circular eyes peering straight into his, watching as an ant-like creature tore itself from the ground to wreak havoc on whoever Riku aimed it at.

And for a while, he assumed that it was a blessing. He didn’t need a keyblade or parents or an island or even  _ Sora,  _ not if he got everything he could ever want. Not if he  _ could  _ get everything he ever wanted with a simple snap of his gloved hands. All he needed was to wish for it, and he’d get whatever he wanted. At first, he abused it in Traverse Town, just to see. He’d been hungry and didn’t have the sort of cash he needed to buy food. So he simply wished for it, and before he knew, the Heartless squirmed under the door, unlocking the shop from within and swinging the door wide, leaving claws dug into the wood.

It was the strangest bag of chips he’d ever eaten, sitting on the steps of the store while the ant-like Shadows peered at him with unblinking eyes, practically begging for the food. Riku had offered them a chip but they simply nudged at it, getting crumbs and salt upon their faces--noses, perhaps?--and then staring back up at him.

“Oh,” he said, “You want something  _ else.”  _ He snorted, chuckling darkly and brushing a clean hand through his hair as he shook the bag. “Well, you won’t get  _ my  _ heart,” he said, crumpling the bag and tossing it into the nearby trash bin, vanishing the Heartless without so much as a thank you.

It seemed that as the days went by, Riku started to lose touch on reality. He’d wake up from his sleep only to discover his arm felt tingly, felt numb, dragging itself along the sheets in an attempt to move. Riku would hold it down until it stopped, usually with as much force as he could muster. It was getting more and more difficult to stop the spasms.

He assumed it was just his body not used to the darkness or the Heartless waiting for him to summon them getting restless, at first. Rather than concern, he felt disgusted by the Heartless, getting upset at them. He thought they were rebelling and it caused him to lash out, to grow angry and snap despite them doing what they were told. 

It got to the point he’d fall asleep and next thing he knew, he was sleepwalking. It felt more like sleep paralysis and he found he couldn’t shake control back to his limbs fast enough. It felt like he was being strangled, every breath harder than the last. Pinch yourself, he’d try to convince himself, just reach your hand and pinch but he never could. 

Sometimes, his body would just hit the ground and he’d gasp and sputter for breath, gripping at his throat and coughing until consciousness came back to him completely. Sometimes, he’d simply collapse and black out, and other times, he’d wake up perfectly fine. Those were the times that scared Riku the most, especially when he’d roll over and find a comatose Kairi staring blankly at the floor as if she were the one casting the spells on him.

It got to the point that he’d keep himself awake as long as he could, even as the pirate ship rocked to and fro. It should have angered him, should’ve made him sick, but instead he felt nothing but anger. He couldn’t even sit on the bed without feeling like his bones were vibrating inside of his skin, making him hold tight to his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around himself. The tears would start to fall but he couldn’t bring his hand up to wipe at them, couldn’t even focus his thoughts as his mind became a mess of whitenoise, of screaming, of vicious thoughts and wicked whims he couldn’t bring himself to even parse. He was terrified, trapped in his own mind and body.

_ I can make it all go away. _

That was the first clear thought he had had in days, it seemed and he fought to latch onto it. Make it all stop, make it all stop,  _ make it all stop…! _

_ Give in to the darkness, Riku… _

“H...haven’t I already…?’ he’d asked through grit teeth. Instantly he winced, curling into a ball and pressing his forehead to the bedsheets. He was suffering, his head felt like a watermelon with too much pressure, about to split at the seams. Everything burned, it felt like every ounce of his blood was boiling, like every breath was sending glass into his lungs. The pressure behind his eyeballs was growing too intense, it felt like at any moment they’d simply force their way from his skull, or burst or--

_ Just give in… _

“How?!” he snapped, tears and drool smearing along the bedsheets as he tightened further into a ball. Everything in him screamed. Just die, the pain will go away, you’ll be so much better if you just die. Death will stop the pain. He sobbed out in agony, clenching his eyes shut.

_ Just give in...to me… _

“...okay, just, Gods, make the pain stop…!” he hissed through clenched teeth. And it did. Instantly, it was like he was doused in ice cold water. Every limb felt loose and the pressure behind his eyes disappeared. His limbs slumped and he fell to the side, his knees to his chest and tears streaming down his cheeks. Instinctively, he tried to wipe at them but nothing happened. He couldn’t move. It felt like he was falling backwards and it was only too late did he realize that he wasn’t moving backwards but his  _ sight  _ was. 

He was a prisoner in his own body. And that’s when he realized who’d he’d been speaking to.

“Ans-!’

His voice cut off, mouth shut tight before spreading into a smile against his will. He was the puppet and the puppeteer, a victim of his own body, feeling as his limbs moved, feeling as he blinked and swallowed and stepped. Feeling as he summoned the Heartless, as he spoke and goaded Sora, as he threatened the villains and kidnapped the princesses--he felt it all. He felt every second of it and slammed along the metaphorical cage bars of his mind, trapped like a circus animal for Ansem’s amusement.

It wasn’t until he stepped into the gaudy colored area of the whale’s stomach did he truly feel disgusted with himself, for giving in to the darkness. Sora brandished his keyblade and threatened Riku but he felt his lips pull into a smile, arms wide.

“Don’t you remember me? Your  _ best friend?” _

_ No.  _ Riku wanted to scream, to cry, to thrash, to apologize but he couldn’t, he simply watched as the scene unfolded and felt his head drop within his mind.  _ What kind of best friend hurts the one he cares about? _


	16. Hallucinations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 16: Hallucinations

Time always moved so strangely down in the Realm of Darkness, and what seemed like only days had been months. Replitwo emerged from his cave of furs and old blankets, giving a stretch and staring over along the shoreline of the dark ocean, brushing his hair back with his hands and hearing them yet again with his consciousness returning.

He’d called them the Whispers, voices he could only make out in hushed voices. They would get louder if he got close to them and then suddenly disappear and grow quiet if he got too close, luring him elsewhere. It’d been days--months--since he’d heard them and despite how much they offered to him, they never gave him what they promised. Power, proper darkness, a better keyblade, revenge--but they never went through with it.

Sometimes, they’d seep beneath his flesh and make him slump, body entranced and under their spell. He’d come to hours later and find he’d collapsed from exhaustion, walking endlessly as the whispers crooked their fingers and rams hands through his hair, offering him whatever he wanted. Wrapped in his shawl and wandering the sandy beaches, the Heartless treating him as one of their own and ignoring him.

They had been just that, disembodied voices that simply lured him deeper into the Realm, leaving him to collapse while they sapped his strength, over and over and over. He’d gone mad sometime in there more than likely but he couldn’t tell. Even as his limbs darkened and his face began to amalgamate into a beartrap-like face, eyes pure yellow and hair like smoke.

He had fled here to escape the Guardians when they’d brought him back albeit on accident, wounded and expecting to die but had healed over time. They’d slain him, they’d been led to him in the Graveyard by Vanitas and Xion of all people, his former friends. They’d lost, and they hadn’t wanted him to die all alone, shackled down and wasted potential. No matter how much he’d screamed and thrashed and tried to break his own bones to escape, in the end he’d been run through, waking to white lights and a laboratory, and then the crash of cold sand on his body.

Vanitas had been the one to betray him, the only one he’d ever cared about, only one he’d ever  _ loved.  _ Had left him here to die, knew where he’d gone...and still never came to check on him. Revenge sounded nice. Revenge sounded  _ right.  _

So he wandered, he explored, he studied the Realm and its inhabitants. He trained, and fed, and farmed, and fell, day after day. Even as his body began to change, slipping beyond the realm of Darkling to go straight to Heartless of sorts. His own personal anti-form, his once black heart marking now leaking black ichor that fizzled out once it hit the sand. The way his breatrap mouth would open to reveal a glowing purple mouth, the way he’d forgotten how to walk on two legs.

But the Whispers remained, his only friends in the world. They cared fingers through his hair and rubbed under his chin, and stroked hands down his scarred back. He was beautiful. He was their little pet, so close to falling to darkness good and proper, a bit stubborn if nothing else. Replitwo would curl up into his little cave, wrapped up in comfortable blankets, and then he’d hear the Whispers summoning him, making his body move on its own until he couldn’t walk any farther from exhaustion or hunger or dehydration.

Even if he were wounded, he’d simply limp towards the voices and gleefully wait for their promises. But they never came.

It wasn’t until one day when Replitwo had broken through the inoculation did he notice something different about the whispers. They had a form. Though it was shadowy like a Heartless, it was humanoid, physical. Unruly hair, a well-toned body, a hand turned claws, brushing down Replitwo’s back with a hum.

“Hello, pet,” the voice spoke, a second figure appearing in the cave. A second Vanitas, just as similar as the first. “Why didn’t you come when I called?” the second asked, a third pulling from its body. “We’ve been calling you for so long.” the third said, reaching a hand forward to touch Replitwo’s blackened shoulder.

“But…”

“Shh…” the first Vanitas spoke, sticking its fingers in Replitwo’s collar and giving it a tug, pulling him up from his spot comfortable in his nest and making him stand on all fours.

“Come on, now,” the second spoke, giving Replitwo’s shoulders a little push.

“We’ve been waiting for hours for you,” the third whined, tugging at some strands of hair and luring him forward.

“Where...g...are we….going…?” Replito struggled with a mouth with no lips, and the three Vanitases simply laughed, a various amount of noises.

“To get your revenge.”

“How…?”

The three Vanitases looked at each other and then smiled knowingly, all offering an outstretched hand. “Just trust us and let us in.” 

Replitwo paused, looking down at his body and then at the three hands all pointing at him, reaching forward to grasp the middle Vanitas whose grin widened inhumanely, a mouth of sharp fangs on display. “Good boy.”


	17. Dirty Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 17: Dirty Secret

“Would you just shut up before someone hears you?” Vanitas hissed, voice muffled from the closet he was currently wedged inside. There was a grunt from Ventus and the male shuffled, pressing closer to the wall he could and groaning angrily.

“This is  _ your  _ fault!” Ventus hissed, glaring at where he saw yellow eyes faintly glowing, watched as they made a wide arc and rolled.

“ _ You _ were the one who came on to  _ me,”  _ he said, gesturing at his currently disheveled shirt and the currently cooling stripe of saliva on his lips from where Ven had kissed him, quickly and in a panic. Even now he couldn’t be sure why other than the fact that everything had felt magnetized, pulling him and Vanitas together even when he didn’t want to be close to him. But it had turned into something he couldn’t ignore in the form of  _ need. _

Vanitas had been a part of him once so it wasn’t so strange his body had a yearning to get that piece back.

At first, it’d only been small things like thoughts, daydreams, trying to befriend his spikier other half. But then it devolved into a sick sort of obsession that consumed his waking thoughts. Everything in him wanted to get closer, and in his desperation, he made his move, lunging forward to kiss Vanitas who’d stumbled back, and in doing so threw a hand out to reach for Ventus, pulling him into the closet. It made  _ Ventus  _ act out, reaching a hand out and grabbing the door, snapping off the doorknob and locking them inside.

What had become a panicked sort of moment turned into a more embarrassing one, leaving Ventus hard and pressed uncomfortably against Vanitas. 

But this wasn’t the first time, no. It’d become a sort of dirty secret between the two of them to fool around, to take their moments they could and explore each other as equals. Between gentle touches and quick breaths, kisses and huffs and shivers. It wasn’t like it was anything they’d planned on but it had gotten them closer in several ways, a sort of secret understanding between the two. 

Unfortunately, someone had started coming up the stairs, startling Ven into acting. A broken door, a quick hideout. What should have been fingers carding through hair and compliments turned into held breaths and wide eyes, peering through the slats of the closet door. A supply closet, where people frequented to grab things. In the middle of the afternoon. On the weekend.

Ventus swallowed hard and bit his lip, glaring over at Vanitas who peered through the slats and squinted, trying to discern where the person was going. Ventus sighed, tugging at his shirt with a closed fist and a hammering heart. The closet was _small,_ there was no need for them to _both_ be in the closet unless it was for ‘things’ the others would obviously catch them red-handed for.  
Still, it didn’t stop Ventus from leaning forward and resting his forehead against Vanitas’ shoulder, the black-haired male shushing him quietly and reaching forward to raise a hand, brushing it through his blond hair. “It’s okay,” he said, tipping his head to give Ventus a quick forehead kiss and then peering again through the slit of the closet door gap.

“They’re gonna catch us one day and we’re trapped until they leave,” Ventus said, feeling lightheaded. Aqua would be so disappointed, Terra would give him that stern yet understanding talk, and worse,  _ Sora  _ would find out and be far too excited about it. What was so wrong about being interested in a part of Ventus that once split and became their own person? It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t stop the confusion reaching his body tried to get closer to him. Ventus was deeply curious, wanted to be around Vanitas and learn about the person he’d become.

Unfortunately for him, that also meant he wanted to know what Vanitas tasted like, and found out firsthand that his lips may be scarred but they were very soft. But that nagging need to find out currently had them wedged.

Ventus licked his lips nervously and looked up at Vanitas who only smiled as the footsteps got closer and he exhaled. “Our little secret,” he said, making Ventus’ eyes widen, heart hammering quicker and quicker. They were going to be found out. A portal would make too much noise and be obvious so all they could do was lie. All Ventus wanted was a kiss, maybe to hold hands, but instead the light from the hallway was beaming in their face and Terra stood, finger in the doorknob’s former home and looking confused.

“I shoved him in the closet as a prank and the doorknob fell off,” Vanitas said, scowling.  _ Playing the villain _ and keeping Ventus’ reputation squeaky clean. Ventus simply stared at him in disbelief and felt a nudge at his side.

“Y-Yeah,” Ventus said, huffing. Relaxing himself and forcing a scowl. “I thought I could get free of him but I tripped and grabbed the doorknob, I was going to call for help but my phone was charging and I didn’t want to break the door because the King-”

“It’s fine,” Terra said, gesturing for them to leave. “Glad you’re alright, you two. And Vanitas.”

The darker haired male looked up.

“Just...be nice next time, okay? I’m sure you don’t need to shove him in a closet for a prank. You two can spar, just blow off steam some other way.”

Vanitas stared up and Terra rolled his eyes with a snort. “I was young once, too. I’ll keep your dirty little secret  _ if _ you both promise to maybe use the closet two floors down.”

“What?” Ventus asked and Terra simply smiled, finger to his lips. “Studying is boring, sometimes you just gotta be a teenager. But, don’t tell Aqua about that, okay?” he asked, pushing them both away. “Now get out of here, I’ll fix the door.” he said. The two boys stared at each other and quickly dispersed, but not until Vanitas grabbed for Ventus’ hand and gave a squeeze. “Later.”


	18. Panic Attacks/Paranoia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 18: Panic Attacks/Paranoia
> 
> I was in the middle of moving and lost all steam on these but I want to finish them.

Being able to sleep without nightmares was a blessing as the days went on but that didn’t mean that every sleep was restful. For years, Sora had been raised in wars, had fought for his life, and now that there was a lull in the ‘excitement’, his body found it couldn’t rest. Just sitting still had him jittery in ways he hadn’t been previously. He’d bounce his legs or tap his pencil or chew on his nails obsessively until someone noticed and he’d simply smile and apologize.

He didn’t even notice.

He started to sleep with the lights on because his nightlight started to make shadows and he was convinced that if he looked too long he’d see claws, antennas, or bright yellow eyes staring back at him. It wasn’t as if he meant to do it, but sometimes he’d jump from the bed in a rush, summoning his keyblade and swinging wildly at nothing there. He always felt so foolish and would drop his head in shame, embarrassed tears brimming over his eyes.

He didn’t mean to act so foolish, but the trauma had run deep.

He couldn’t even shower properly for a few weeks after the wars because any time he closed his eyes to rinse out the shampoo, he’d start to hallucinate and would start panicking, accidentally knocking over soap bottles and towels in his need to get away. He’d sit on the wet floor and tremble until he broke down, Riku rushing to his side and draping a towel over him as he tried to calm him.

Sora had gotten therapy from the Queen but it could only do so much. It was buried deep within his psychosis and he certainly tried to take his lessons to heart. Riku kept the nightmares away so he could sleep well and it helped for a while but Sora was still restless. He’d find himself studying, nodding off, and waking up in a scream, needing to be consoled by whoever was closest to try and calm him down. His shoes would squeak across the tiled floor and he’d start thrashing, head tossed back and mouth open as wide as it could go in a scream of anguish.

Paranoia, consuming his waking thoughts. 

When would he be attacked again by a villain who wanted him dead?

When would a Heartless come to try and consume his crystalline heart?

When would his body be engulfed in shadows, flooding his body in darkness and rage until he hurt the ones he loved, sacrificing themselves to bring him back to his senses?

He didn’t know. He  _ knew  _ he didn’t know, but his body and mind seemed to think he did. At any moment, the shadows in the corner of his vision would grow claws and swipe for him and he’d be unable to summon his blade in time. He knew it was only a matter of time; it always was. 

Sora sat often on the edge of his bed and looked out the window to peer at the darkened sky. His feet would dangle inches above the floor and he’d count the stars as long as he could until sleep overcame him, if he were lucky enough for it to do so. How could his friends simply joke and laugh when they could die at any minute? How could they rest easily at night without a scream or pill to keep them on edge? Sora couldn’t eat, his hair was looking thinner and duller, and every smile he had was forced so precariously that nobody trusted it.

Sora, for all intents and purposes, was gone.

No longer the bright-eyed kid with wild dreams and wilder hair, a smile so big and full of life it had the sun feeling jealous. No longer the kid that’d so nonchalantly hold his hands behind his head and laugh with a beaming grin. No longer the kid that’d eagerly discuss his hopes and dreams and the work on the means to achieve them.

Sora was a husk, and war was to blame.


	19. Survivor's Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 19: Survivor's Guilt/Grief

He didn’t know why he still wandered the old train station plaza. The echoing of his shoes against the hustle and bustle of the other travelers talking and wheeling their luggage, snapping pictures of the chiming clock tower above them. The way the sunlight glinted off of the hands of the clock no longer fascinated him and instead brought about a sense of longing. 

Xion was gone.

He’d been the one to remove her from this world ages ago and the guilt remained. There had been no other choice; it was him or her, and despite his well wishes, they both knew the answer. In order to live, Xion had to go, and that truth destroyed him inside and out. She had been one of his best friends and the only person he could confide in for weeks but with her gone, he lost all sense of purpose. Roxas felt empty.

He clambered his way to the top of the clock tower with his favorite ice cream in hand, unwrapping the treat as he dangled his feet over the lip of the building and watched the feet ticking beneath him, birds flapping hard above him in the sunset glow of twilight. He took a bite of the sea-salt ice cream and looked skyward.

“If I called your name would you even answer?” he asked the clouds, their ever-shifting forms breaking as if to dissipate as their answer. No. She couldn’t answer wherever she was and they both knew that deep down. He tapped his shoes together playfully as he rolled his legs, looking up at the sky in silence.

Why did she have to go? They had both strove for the same ideas, the same future, and yet one sat in their favorite location and the other was but a memory. He could still see her black hair, the sound of her giggle when she  _ really  _ laughed, the way she worked hard on her missions and cheered when she did well. She was a novel human and he missed her dearly.  _ Please come home.  _ He knew she could not.

Roxas caught sight of more birds, watching as they all followed the same triangular path. Following the leader at the cost of their own free will. He grimaced, looking at the popsicle stick in his hand and feeling his scowl deepen. Written on the stick were the words  _ loser.  _ “Don’t I know it,” he murmured, bringing his ringed hand up to lightly toy with his thorn necklace as he sighed.

What was the point of having two keyblades when they did little to protect the one he cared about, when they were what had dealt the final death blows to Xion? He still felt her weight in his arms as her body collapsed, disappearing into the night slowly where she scattered among the stars like all of her hopes and dreams. If he reached a hand out, he was sure he could grab one and hold it to his chest, a little piece of her to always remain by his side. By his heart. She didn’t belong in his heart, she belonged  _ with him.  _ With him  _ always.  _

He brushed some of his blonde fringe from his face and looked down at the people below. How could they simply walk where she once fell like she never existed? Nobody knew of the Nobody but Roxas these days and it sent a stabbing pain through his chest. He couldn’t be here anymore. He sighed, climbing from the ledge and heading down the clock tower before he turned and headed into the main plaza and then further to the twilight spot.

He sat down in the grass and stuck his legs through the holes underneath the fence, watching as the train started to pass by--the real one. He sighed, resting his arms over the railing and watching as the wheels rotated on the train, the pistons working in quiet hushes. Just as it arrived, it dipped out of view and Roxas simply blinked unfocused blue eyes at its afterimage. 

He was tired. He was  _ so  _ tired these days. He was done with sleeping all day and hoping that if he were asleep, he wouldn’t need to deal with his pain. He was done with dreaming peacefully and seeing sad blue eyes, a girl in a black coat, smiling at him and calling his name. It was worse as the days went by because he realized he was starting to forget what she looked like. Her face was a cream-color swirl, a blob that didn’t seem quite right no matter how hard he focused and tried to remember.

The harder he tried, the faster her visage slipped through his fingers like sand and he grimaced. Never went to the beach, never got to keep her as his friend, never got to remember. He grabbed a rock beside him and launched it angrily to the tracks where it dully echoed and disappeared. 

“I miss you,” he murmured, clutching the thorn to his chest. “Wherever you are...I hope you’re finding the best seashells.” He looked up at the sky and watched the orange clouds staining to purple, letting the night win out. “Next time we meet...let’s meet at the beach.”

  
  


He opened his eyes and pressed fingers into the sand, looking over at the boats that lined the shore. He stood up quietly and headed down the wooden steps, stopping in front of a familiar girl sitting alone on the tree trunk of the paopu.

“What do you wish?” she questioned.

He said nothing, looking over at the ocean for a long while. “Nothing you already don’t know,” he replied, coming closer to hold her knee but the closer he got, the more she faded away. Sand, stars, wishes, what did it matter? 

“You can’t change the past,” he whispered, looking down at the ground. 


	20. Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 20: Lost

Dust covered Lea’s body. Donald lay motionless on the ground. Ventus rested on his side in a man-made trench the force of his own body made as it careened across the ground. The Demon Tide had come and swirled up Kairi and drowned the rest of his friends in a sea of black. Yellow eyes twinkled like stars across the graveyard, a swarming ocean of ant-like creatures far too prominent a threat to ignore. The itch of antennae and slash of claws as the bodies coalesced into one dangerous mass.

Defeat. 

Sora knew the flavor all too well, pungent and bitter and enough to send bile up his stomach and sour his senses. It tasted too prevalent to pretend it was anything else, no matter how hard he tried. The scent of dirt and rust already took over his sense of smell, and despite gripping the ground with dear life, his fingers couldn’t dig deep enough into the soil to hide himself away.

He promised everybody he’d keep them safe, gathered them all up in hopes they’d protect each other and that they’d always be together forever after everything they went through. His eyes glanced over at the shrapnels of the keyblade armor that once hosted Terra’s will, to the empty spot left behind where Xion and Roxas should have been if they won, now just a barren, brown spot of Earth with the blurred image of keys behind it. Not their keys, never theirs--just more defeat and heartbreak.

Former soldiers who once thought they were making a difference reduced to the remnants of their ambitions and dreams. A fallen key for every wielder, a Starlight for every star in the sky. Sora’s chest felt tight but it had never felt so empty in his life. He felt  _ hollow.  _ He felt like the world was on fire and he had nothing to put it out with other than his choked sobs and hiccups as he cried openly and silently.

One sky, one destiny, he thought he said that once upon a time.

So then why was he alive and the others gone? Where was his happy ending, running with his friends on the beach, laughing and whooping and just being a fucking  _ kid  _ like he deserved? Where was his childish laughter that had him doubling over as his friends tripped, or the way his fingers felt sticky as the ice cream in his hand started melting in the overbearing sun of Twilight Town? Why was he the one left here to sit on his knees and hands and watch as his tears seeped into the ground, as if the very motion would cause his friend’s hearts to bloom back to life with the hope his tears wished for them to have?

Why did he  _ always fucking lose?! _

He was sick of it. He was sick of it!

Being thrust into wars, battles, time and time again and for what? How many more times could he sit there wounded from protecting someone and feel the sting of rends and batterings along his arms beneath gauze and bandages, laughing it off and saying “it’s okay!” When was it  _ ever  _ okay to watch his shower run red from dirt and grime and _ blood  _ in his hair from a day’s hard battle? How many times would he wake up and see purple and grey marking his arms and legs and be  _ surprised  _ when it  _ wasn’t  _ from a battle?

He swallowed hard and let the tears fall.

It wouldn’t have been so bad; he could’ve just reset the clock and brought them all back in a split second, no problem! But there was a problem: he was out of uses. He would vanish within a few moments and the old goat would win. He blinked blear blue eyes and looked up as movement attracted his attention and felt his mouth open in a silent plea but no words came out.

Riku stepped forward, and then took another step. Another. Where was he going?! 

The Demon Tide loomed ever closer but so too did Riku. He was stepping closer and staring up at the swirling vortex, insatiable in its lust to destroy every light. But Riku kept walking, sizing it up, ready to face off. Sora reached a hand forward but so too did Riku, slashing through the darkness--

And then it slashed through his light.

For the others, death was at least quick. Death at least approached them rapidly, giving them no time to see their demise. A blink of an eye and their world fell dark. But for Riku, the male was anguished, his arms trembling as darkness ate away at his light and tore him to pieces slowly. Sora opened his mouth but nothing came out, his voice too hoarse from crying, screaming, it wasn’t fair!

But Sora had already resigned himself to losing. He couldn’t bring himself to get up and run to his boyfriend’s side, couldn’t find the will to teleport to him and help him fight it off, to defend him with magic or cures or  _ anything.  _ Sora could only watch in horror as the darkness fully swallowed up Riku’s form and then turned on him, a tornado of chaos and destruction.

Sora didn’t even know why he bothered raising his hands as if to shield himself when he already knew the outcome.

Sora was resigned to losing when he knew nothing in life ever dictated he should be the chosen one.


End file.
